


Dark Gift

by MrsAlot



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Hurt, M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Mpreg, Pain, Substance Abuse, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1817173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsAlot/pseuds/MrsAlot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron has made many plans, some have come to pass, others not. After capturing an Autobot, he finds that one of his longest held plans may finely be fulfilled... but at what cost?   ~A Work in Progress~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shadow of things to come

**Author's Note:**

> in my internet travels I found that Megatron and Ratchet were once molecularly joined together… since then I find the dynamic between the too far to wonderful to leave alone. 
> 
> I'm adore the Prime series, I just adore the voice talent. I have fallen in love with this incarnation of Megatron, the first Megs I’ve found hot, and the fact it's frank welker doing the voice is even sweeter! Plus! Ratchet is voiced by one of my all time fav actors of all time! Jeff Combs Re-animator trilogy is in my top ten movies.
> 
> Enjoy!

Megatron watched the live video feed of his captive with amusement as he struggled against his bonds. The mech hung from energon restraints, painful and draining to any bot’s systems. A sly grin spread over his face as he reached out and entered a command into the control panel leading to the cell, routing to a surge of raw energy through the prisoner’s frame. The Autobot screamed in agony, arcing and twisting involuntarily in a futile attempt to escape the tortuous pain arcing through his sensitive neural network. Megatron was more than pleased with the results; he had, after all, developed the system himself.

After the energy flare subsided, the Autobot launched immediately into a scorching rant of viciously creative insults aimed at various aspects of Megatron’s parentage, cleanliness and the incredibly small size of his interfacing equipment. He chuckled deeply, finding the tirades highly amusing. He’d discovered this titbit a few hours ago while idly torturing the Autobot; after every shock the bot would let loose an amazing display of temper, freeing his acid tongue from its sheath. Some of the things that were said… they made the Decepticon soldiers blush. 

//Lord:Megatron// a voice whispered through an internal comm. It drew the Decepticon leader out of his thoughts and prompted him to search for its origin. Glancing around, Megatron saw Soundwave silently stride up behind him without so much as a whisper of hydraulics. If it had been anyone else he would have been very unsettled, but Soundwave had proven his undying loyalty to him time and time again. He trusted the silent mech, more than any other Decepticon under his command. It still marvelled the warlord how the communications officer could be so stealthy. Yes, his TIC truly was an asset to the cause.

//Information: Autobot captive.//  
The massive mech glanced at Soundwave with a frown; he didn’t remember asking for the comm. officer to do any background checks on the prisoner.  
//Analysis of captive: intriguing.//  
Megatron scanned the screen before him briefly before turning to face the other mech.  
“How so?”

Megatron silently studied the information as personal data and medical scans flowed over his super spy’s faceplates. As he idly browsed the information available, Soundwave began to explain the significance of his finds in his calm, distinctive voice. Megatron found listening to his TIC to be an almost novel experience, the mech’s statements precise and to the point. He enjoyed listening to his voice, a stark contrast to Starscream’s loud, insistent screech that contained almost nothing of value. Contrarily, the reclusive blue bot never spoke aloud and even then refrained from spouting the hot air and sycophantic drivel that the Air Commander inserted into every conversation.

//Identity: verified.// the mech spoke, his voice calm and almost melodic. //Medical scans: complete. Information: cross-referenced. Results: positive. Conclusion: match for stated criteria.// 

That caught the warlord’s attention.

“A match? How accurate is the information?” As he said it, he realised it was a moot question. Soundwave was a very good officer and would never have bothered his leader with anything less than completely accurate information. Still… he had to be sure.

//Scans indicate: carrying capability: active. Autobot: still receptive. Records state: 100% success rate. Carried: three to term//  
“Three? Busy little Autobot,” he chuckled, “How did they fair?”  
//Sparkling occupations: two high warrior class, one high science officer. Conclusion: favourable breeding potential.//  
His CPU began to process the information. Megatron had been waiting a very long time to find someone that matched his high standard of criteria; somebot very special for an equally special task.

For far too long others had desired and fought for leadership of the Decepticon army; his own second in command hungered desperately for his throne. Megatron couldn’t let just anyone take up his mantle should anything happen to him. Starscream was, in his own way, a reasonably good commander and he certainly had the drive, but he lacked the undying faith that he himself inspired in the Decepticon troops. For that reason the seeker would never be a strong leader. They needed a clear undisputed line of leadership. The warlord needed someone he could train and mould, someone he could shape in his image and could say was truly worthy to lead.

In short, Megatron needed an heir. A true heir; his own spark pulse and living cybertronium in case anything untoward did happen to him. If he could not fulfil his dream, he would be sure that he had someone he could trust to take his place; to carry on in his stead and lead their clan to their rightful greatness. He’d conceived this plan millennia ago when he’d first taken on the mantle of leadership, but for all his searching, he had never found a suitable candidate to breed with. 

There was always something wrong. There were a variety of reasons that ultimately turned him off any would-be candidate, from their physical appearance to their mental competency. The ex-gladiator wanted the best; an intelligent, strong carrier who’d pass on only the best Cybertronian characteristic. This one had bred warriors and officers; exquisite breeding potential indeed. True, the candidate was an Autobot, but Megatron had learnt that nobot was perfect. He could live with that singular fault, he mused, seeing as every other aspect amounted to the perfect carrier. In other words, too good of an opportunity to pass off.

After all these vorns he’d finally found the perfect carrier for his offspring lurking right under his nasal plating. He gazed back at the screen, bright red optics scrutinizing the bot closely. Megatron snorted at the irony. He really should have looked at the Autobots a little more closely.

xXxXxXxX

Ratchet hung limply from the ceiling of the cell. After multiple electrical shocks and his angry outbursts to vent his frustration, all his energy seemed to have deserted him. Everything felt heavy and tired; his entire body throbbed with phantom pains from his torture. His joints hurt and his wrist had gone numb from being stung up for so long. He wasn’t sure how long he’d have to endure being amusement for the sadistic warlord, but he prayed that Primus sent his team swiftly to his aid.

He was more than a little annoyed at ending up in his predicament. Optimus, Bumblebee and Arcee had gone on a simple scouting mission and Ratchet had insisted that he accompany them, he wanted samples of a particular rock from the area. He near enough ordered Optimus to take him along. The medic also stated that if he spent another moment with the human children while they were playing their stupid dance game, it would drive the medic to do something unbecoming from a mech of his standing. Optimus had given him a small, knowing smile and agreed. 

Everything had gone exceedingly well; the woods had been blissfully quiet and peaceful, positively delightful after the ruckus of the base. After a while he’d split off from the others to explore on his own, wandering quite far into the trees. He’d found some more rather fascinating specimens further in, and had sat by a fallen tree to examine a particularly vivid sample. However, Ratchet hadn’t been seated for long when all 18 levels of the pit seemed to explode around him. Everything happened so fast! He was hit from behind by a mighty energy blast that sent his finely tuned sensors reeling and warped his visual and audio sensors. 

He staggered to his feet, unable to see clearly and struggled to tune in to his general comm frequency. Ratchet couldn’t have been sure, but he thought that he could make out a call to engage an unknown enemy. He could barely stand though as his sensors thought that the sky was beneath his feet. The compromised comm crackled with static and the incapacitated mech thought he could hear Arcee cry out in pain. Fear gripped him, he couldn’t tell what was happening and couldn’t help even if he wanted to. For a moment he thought he heard Optimus call his name but froze up, unable to reply and feeling as if his jaws were welded closed. Moments later the medic’s world suddenly went black as he was forced into shutdown, left to his uncertain fate.

When he’d awoken, he found himself Strung up in a holding cell. Though he had clearly been repaired and his sensors recalibrated, they were only just functioning normally. Ratchet had almost felt as though he would rather have stayed offline. Looking back at his decision, Ratchet berated himself for his foolishness. He should have just bitten the preverbal bullet, stayed at the base and endured the younglings ‘music’ and odd dance moves. 

He caught the sound of movement from outside the doors , voices quickly joining the tinny echo of footsteps. Moments later the sliding doors slid ajar as the Decepticon leader strode confidently in to the room. He was just as tall and menacing as ever, his crimson optics blazing like dark suns in the shadowy room. The warlord focused on the bound mech in front of him and smiled maliciously, showing off rows of pointy denta.

“Hello Doctor. How are you finding your guest quarters? I hope the décor is to your liking?” he queried smoothly, voice full of dark amusement. Ratchet merely scoffed and rolled his optics in annoyance, not at all impressed with the mechs bravado. 

“I hate to be a bore but please, if you’re going to kill me, stop this pointless procrastination and just do it already!” he huffed irritably. “You’re only wasting your own time; I’m sure you have some helpless minion to scare the waste fluid out of. That is how you get your cheap thrills is it not?” 

The ambulance smirked, waiting for the Decepticon to retaliate with threats and grand, dramatic boasting about how he was going to crush him, his Autobot brethren and his Prime.

Instead, Megatron simply stood there, a contemplative look spreading across his faceplates. He tapped a long talon against his chin and stepped forward, languorously looking over the bound mech in front of him. His optics swept lazily over the bots frame, lingering on certain parts that he felt deserved closer attention. The Autobot medic was indeed a pleasant thing to look at. His white armour looked bright, even with it covered in dirt and his own Energon stains, and was accented with simple patterns and striking colours that contrasted violently with his surroundings. The mech’s features were attractive with a sturdy, strong frame composed of clean lines and subtly elegant curves.

“What are you staring at you walking, Junkion muck spreader?!” The medic snapped, a sneer pulling at his handsome faceplates. His very words betrayed his high class programming; a lightly clipped accent that identified his Iaconian heritage. Ratchet had the self-assured tone and confidence that came from having privilege and power. The smaller bot wasn’t afraid of him- that was very good, Megatron didn’t want a carrier with no spinal strut.

Though they had never met before the war Megatron had known of this particular medic, as had most of Cybertron. Orion had certainly mentioned him often enough to catch his interest. Ratchet had held quite a reputation regarding his scientific work, but that was often underplayed in contrast to his phenomenal talent as a doctor. If that wasn’t enough, Ratchet also worked his way through the ranks of society, even playing a part in the planets political arena. The gladiator admitted to have caught several vids of the medic’s presentations and he approved of the drive and determination that was present in his passionate speeches.

It was widely known that when the old Minister for health was to step down for his well deserved retirement, the only candidate that anyone put forward was this mech. Had war not come, he would be health minister for all of Cybertron by now. An impressive feat. Ratchet was an intelligent, confident, talented and resourceful mech. He was perfect. No wonder Orion had been so obsessed with him and no doubt why Prime had wanted him so badly to recruit him for his varied talents when war broke out. Speaking of the Prime…

Something had caught his optic, a shadowy dent on the mechs neck cable. Megatron stepped forward and grabbed the Autobot roughly by the throat, causing him to choke in shock. He paid no heed to the struggling mech as he ran his servos carefully over the cables. The warlord could feel slight dents in the soft metal, dents cause by another mech’s denta. Megatron began to smile widely, disconcerting the mech beneath him- could it be? He wondered; Orion had always spoken of him with such admiration, and longing… Had he…?

“Tell me,” Megatron purred into Ratchets audio. “I am curious, how long have you been Primes berth-warmer?”

“W-what?!” The medic spluttered. The shocked look on his face was all he needed to help confirm his suspicions. Megatron grinned with glee, optics glimmering as he pressed on.  
“Don’t be surprised, it wasn’t hard to figure out. If I know Optimus, and I like to think I do, he does have a habit of… nibbling on his playthings,” he chuckled, running the tips of his talons over the doctors neck to show how he’d come to the conclusion. The doctor looked suitably lost for words and Megatron gave a sly look. “I wonder what he’ll give to get you back in one piece?”  
“Optimus would never give you anything, you egotistical fragger! Never! Not for the sake of one bot! No matter who he is! He has others that would quite happily take my place!”

The Decepticon grinned savagely. He had Primes berth-mate. His spark raced with excitement. This was even better than he could have dreamed- not only would he get his heir, he would take something precious from the Prime: His chosen companion. If he knew Optimus as well as he professed, the Autobot leader would have invested his emotions heavily in the mech before him, to his peril it would now seem. 

‘How delicious it will be’, he mused. When he’d taken what he wanted from the medic, he’d dump him back on earth for Prime to retrieve. Optimus would discover, to his horror, that he’d had him. He would leave marks of their mating on that beautiful armour; clear signs that he had taken his pleasure from the Primes personal whore.  
Soon after, Optimus would learn that the doctor had borne him a sparkling, that Megatron had claimed a piece of his medics spark as well as his body. What a torture that would be for the pair of them!

He chuckled deeply as the white mech squirmed, grunting in his grasp; perhaps he’d also record the event then send it to the Prime. A little gift; a twist of the blade in Optimus’ spark. He grinned savagely, lent down and ran his glossa along Ratchet’s throat, over the dents from his lovers administrations. The medic shuddered violently.

“Get your disgusting, depraved claws off me you vile excuse for a life form!” Ratchet snarled, thrashing vigorously.  
“You have such spirit, good, I’ll enjoy pounding it out of you,” he emphasized darkly. 

To Megatrons delight it only took a click for the doctor to understand his meaning; the horrified look on his face was such a picture. The Decepticon chuckled and let his servos slide down the Autobots neck, scraping his talons provocatively over his chest and dipping the tips into the crevices of his grill before moving off. Leaving the mech quaking in disgust. He stepped out of the holding cell to find Soundwave dutifully standing guard. 

“It seems we have unwittingly brought Optimus Primes companion on board for a visit. We best see that we make his stay memorable. Have him cleaned up and brought to my quarters.”

//By your command: Lord Megatron// The com officer nodded slightly. Megatron turned and left, his processor already planning on what to do with the medic once he got him in his own berth. Each idea that bloomed was more delicious then the last.

He was going to enjoy this.


	2. Seeds are Sowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron takes want he wants... Ratchet has no hope...

The anticipation that had been building was starting to get to him.  
Megatron had ordered Soundwave to clean his guest up; he was picky about exactly what he let into his berth at the best of times and a filthy, dirt coved mech was certainly not one of them, no matter how attractive he was under the grime. He also had to give him time to refuel and get a little recharge before their fun began. 

Though it would have been easier for the warlord if the Autobot didn’t have energy to fight, a substantial lack of energy could easily have a detrimental effect on the warlord’s efforts to spark with him in the first place. The problem was that if he was going to breed with him, conception would be much more difficult if the medic was weakened. Even worse, it could also have a negative effect on the newsparks’ development if it were incubated in an unhealthy system. The Decepticon knew the bother would be worth it and only to his benefit in the end, but the knowledge did nothing to alleviate his annoyance about being kept waiting. Even at the best of times, Megatron was not a patient mech.

When he received the message from his comm officer informing him that the Autobot was ready, the tyrant all but leapt from his chair in eagerness. He snapped out a few orders as he turned to leave, proclaiming that he was not to be disturbed until further notice, and exited the bridge. If any of the troops dared to comment, they would have said there was a spring in the large mechs steps as he made his way down to his private quarters. Exiting the turbolift he was greeted by the welcome sight of his TIC waiting outside his quarters..

“Soundwave, is everything prepared?” Megatron asked as he approached. The slender mech nodded curtly.  
//Autobot: Re-fuel: Repaired: Rested: Cleaned: Awaiting inside.// he said smoothly.  
“Good, and the surveillance cameras?” the Tyrent inquired.  
//Online: recording//  
“And it is only you that has access, correct?”  
//Soundwave: Only one//

“Excellent, I’m counting on you to keep them that way until I have need of them. You may leave for now; I will call if I require anything else.” 

The spy gave a graceful bow as his master turned to leave. The large double doors hissed open and Megatron stepped though into his private sanctum; they were the largest of the quarters on Nemesis and by far the most luxurious. 

He walked though the main area that served as his lounge and office. The main rooms sported a dark, imposing theme, echoing the personality of their inhabitant. Large comfortable settees around an ember pit that dominated the room, glowing pleasantly in the dim lighting. An enormous desk sat at the back of the office, framed either side by huge tapestries of the Decepticon emblem. His audios caught the sound of movement from the adjoining room as the warlord moved to his desk and accessed his personal files.

The silence was broken by the soft sound of music; an old melody from their long lost home. The sound of traditional Cybertronian instruments played with such tenderness and skill was enough to relax even his hardened spark. He listed for a few moments before the anticipation finally became too much and Megatron made his way over to the door of his berth room. Tapping in the lock code, the doors obediently whooshed open. At the sight before him, his CPU had a minor crash. He held back the urge to gasp as he marvelled at the sight before him, but did let a large, predatory grin spread across his faceplate. 

Soundwave, as with anything he undertook, had done a marvellous job. The Autobot was thoroughly cleaned; battle grime, dirt and spilt energon stains were a thing of the past. The dings adorning his chassis had been popped out, scraped paint removed and a new coat evenly applied by a skilled hands. The worn rubber of his tyres had been replaced and the mech had even been waxed and polished to a delightful sheen. Megatron could see why it’d taken so long. The silver mech was thankful of his officers diligence; The medic was certainly was a treat to his optics. 

All of his assets, previously hidden under grime, were now shown off to their best effect by his position on the floor, his servos bound and chained to the foot of the berth. Ratchet glared up at the tyrant with cobalt fire blazing in his optics; the light reflecting off his brilliant, gleaming white armour. It sent a trill of energy through Megatron’s circuits- when the war was over, he was making sure Soundwave got everything and anything he asked for. The mech had earned it after digging out and polishing up this little gem.

“Good evening doctor,” he murmured, just loudly enough to be heard over the soft music, “I see that Soundwave has taken very good care of you.”  
“I generally find human sayings moronic but I believe this one is fitting. Go to fucking hell!”  
Megatron merely smiled pleasantly, amused by his spirit. He took hold of his chain, detached it and pulled the Autobot up. Ratchet had no choice but to obey the insistent force, though he did so with a grumble of distain and a tug back against the chain leash.

“My dear doctor,” Megatron purred, looking over the white mech hungrily, “Who knew you could scrub up so well.”  
He reached out and caressed the Autobot’s face. Ratchet sneered in disgust and with a remarkable show of aim, spat a glob of oral fluid in the Decepticon’s optic. The tyrants face dropped in utter shock, while the smirk on the medics face showed nothing but cool triumph. Ratchet was going to treasure that utterly dumbfounded look the monster was pulling for some time. Unfortunately, the warlord’s befuddlement wasn’t to last. A click later, Megatron regained his focus, emitting a growl so low it made the silver mechs platting rattle, though Ratchet refused to even bat an optic shutter in concern.

If it’d been anyone else at any other time, he wouldn’t have hesitated to give a sharp backhand across the face or worse for their utter disrespect. But in this case, he couldn’t harm the doctor. Any unwanted damage or pain being registered during a merge would cause harmful feedback to himself; it could even prevent conception of a newspark altogether. Megatron cooled his anger by taking a long, deep intake, sounding very much like a irritated sigh as he wiped the fluid away from his face.

“Now, now… is that any really any way for a mech of your distinguished calibre to behave?” He said lowly. “I think you’ve been spending far too much time with the lower classes.”  
“Well, you’d know wouldn’t you? Being the low class gladiator you are.” The white bot shot back, cringing internally as he did so. It was a low blow and they both knew it- Ratchet really wasn’t the type of mech to use class prejudice as ammunition to wound. For the warmonger, however, he’d make an exception. Megatrons optics narrowed to dangerous slits. The mirth in those blue optics was infuriating, but the Decepticon was smart enough to know the medic was just trying to enrage him.

Without warning, in as gently a way as possible, he grabbed the doctor. With one swift move Megatron picked him up and deposited him onto the berth, quickly attaching his chained hands above the medics head to a strategically placed anchor point. Ratchets optics went wide as he suddenly found himself on his back and in a far more vulnerable position. He rattled the chains that made up his bonds, seeing how much give they had. It turned out not to be much, especially not with the hefty warlords weight now pinning his lower body down.

As Megatron gazed down at his alluring prisoner, any anger from before vaporised. He couldn’t stay mad when the medic looked so utterly delectable. He held the mech firmly as he thrashed beneath him, trying to dislodge his captor. Grinning slyly at the feeble attempts of the bot beneath him, Megatron ran his clawed digits lightly over the medic’s frame, applying just enough pressure for the other to feel it but not to scratch his lovely new paintwork. That would come later; for now teasing was the name of the game. The Autobot’s movements increased dramatically, but the warlord luxuriated in the feel of his Chosen thrashing beneath him. He liked a partner witrh spirit.

“You can’t fight me Doctor,” He rumbled quietly. “I thought you would have remembered how you fared from our last meeting.”  
“As I recall, I punched you in the face,” Ratchet sneered sourly. Megatron chuckled at hearing the amount pride in the doctor’s silky tones.  
“You caught me by surprise with a lucky shot. Though I will admit that I was… quite impressed by your bravery.” At this point, Megatron didn’t think that a little flattery could hurt his cause.

Megatron couldn’t simply force himself on the mech. The Decepticon would have liked nothing more than to have his wicked way with him, forcing himself upon the helpless mech beneath him and wringing screams out through a vocalised torn hoarse. But he couldn’t risk any damage to the doctor, in turn risking damage to his future offspring. This was a delicate operation, he had to tread carefully and control his urges. Besides, it was going to prove far more satisfying to take his time.

The tyrent knew the Autobot would have been preparing for something brutal and savage; a rough, harsh coupling. Ratchet steeling himself for a demonstration of Megatrons power and control over him. Instead The former gladiator decided to confuse the poor doctor- he’d be gentle, tender… giving. No doubt just like the Prime would be with his lover. Causing the mech pleasure would have the dual result of making the spark merge more effective, but also blur the lines between himself and his Autobot counterpart. 

He’d make sure Ratchet enjoyed this, make him tremble at his touch. He’d send him into a dizzying overload and make him feel guilty for liking it, have him questioning himself and confuse him ever after about what the Pit had happened. Who knew, maybe he could even turn the good doctor over to their cause. Megatron chuckled to himself; as much as he prided himself on his sexual prowess he doubted it would be enough to sway the mech’s loyalties, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give it a bloody good go.

It’d been a long time since he’d had a mate he wished to please. His servos slid over the medic’s chest down to his grill, dipping lightly into the crevices. Ratchet took a sharp intake of surprise. When Megatron had been a champion gladiator, femmes and mechs would flock to his him, vying to spend a night with him. With so many willing participates, he’d learnt a thing or two about pleasing a bot in the berth. Over the centuries though, he’d found it much more enjoyable to simply indulge his own desires above his partners. On this occasion however, the old data he had stored in his CPU should prove invaluable.

“Get off me!” Ratchet hissed, trying his hardest to move away from Megatron’s insistent, inexorable touch.  
“Hush now,” the silver mech cooed, leaning over and running a wet glossa over the Autobots hip. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He puffed hot air over the wet trail, causing his captive to shudder. “That’s the last thing I want right now.”

If he caused enough pleasant stimulation, it would activate the medic’s interfacing protocols, regardless if he consciously welcomed the ministration or not. As long as he kept the touch light and gentle, pleasure nodes and sensors on and in his body would activate. Base programming would start to run… Lubricant would start to flow…

“Stop it.” The Autobot snapped, shaken by the words.  
“Shhh, my pet,” Megatron growled softly, slipping his talons under plating and tenderly teased the wires beneath. “You have my word, I’ll not harm you.”  
“Shut up! Just-just stop this!” Ratchet yelled. Ignoring the mech, Megatron continued on with his exploration, stroking transformation seams and licking the coloured lights on his thighs with clear lavish intent. The glass on the medic’s chest began to steam up with the heat that his body was producing. He heard the doctors cooling fans shunt on just before his intakes increased, trying to override the fans and compensate for his rising temperatures as he tried to deny the steady betrayal of his own body. The gladiator smiled imperceptibly.

“S-stop it!” That confident voice faltered as Ratchet reacted to the strangely tender caresses.  
“I don’t want to,” Megatron murmured playfully, his engines rumbling deeply with arousal. Ratchet caught his breath as the Decepticon’s plating rattled against his own. The vibrations that assaulted his frame were far too pleasant for comfort and he shook as his fans sped up. Megatron revved his engines in approval, much louder than before, this time causing the Autobot to gasp loudly at the intensified feeling. Megatron chuckled. “I don’t think you want me to stop either.”  
“Frag you!” Ratchet spat.  
“I hope so.” He smiled as he nipped at the Autobot’s knee joint, causing him to twitch. 

From all the tricks he’d learnt from his countless partners, one of his more impressive talents was to manually override a bot’s interface covering. He started to nibble at the doctors prominently painted red hip, gently sucking and licking the sensitive plating till the mech was quaking and snarling. Obscene curses were hurled at the larger mech, all the while his fans working faster to cool his rapidly heating body. 

While the doctor was distracted by his nips, Megatron slipped his servos under the pelvic plating. It took him only a moment to locate the series of sensor nodes and even less time to deactivate them with one efficient move. He was silently impressed with himself as the protective panelling that covered the doctors most intimate equipment snapped open without his consent. Ratchets optics opened wide in horror.  
“Wh-how did you-?!” he spluttered.  
“Just one of my talents, my pet. One of many I intend to show you.” 

The doctor’s valve was indeed wet from his attentions and though it glistened invitingly, it was not as much as he’d like. But there were ways to solve that problem. Megatron wanted him dripping before he took him. The Decepticon held the doctors shapely white thighs firmly open as he puffed hot air over the sensitive metal. Ratchet shuddered, writhing in his grip. Undeterred, the Decepticon leader lent down and ran his glossa around the opening. 

Ratchets colourful language returned tenfold as Megatron began his uninvited exploration, sliding slowly inside the moist opening, stretching the folds open gently. The doctor tensed momentarily and then started to wriggle uneasily as the tyrant expertly stroked the flexible inner walls with his long glossa, stimulating the highly sensitive sensor nodes within the Autobot’s body. Ratchets engines stalled and he choked back a loud, shameful groan of pleasure when the warlord touched a particularly sensitive cluster of sensors near the front of his valve. The unexpected and unwelcome jolts of sensations were, needless to say, disconcerting for the white mech. 

“Good spot?” Megatron inquired, grinning to himself.  
“I-ju-Stop it!” Ratchet bit out roughly as he shook. “Get off me!”  
“Why? Don’t you like it?” He asked before mercilessly assaulting the sensor cluster again.  
“No!” The Autobot cried out, half in anger and half in shameful enjoyment.  
“Funny… there’s a lot of lubricant here,” the Decepticon purred, lapping at the wet opening. Enjoying the taste of fresh, slick and sweet lubricant that started to flow. “I think you do.” 

Megatron dove back down and Ratchet let out a strangled cry, shaking his head in frustration as the ‘Con’s glossa slithered back inside him, delving deeply into his heat.  
“Primus…Please… stop… please.” He cried out quietly. He hated himself for his pleading, but he couldn’t stop himself, didn’t know how to fight against… this. “Please, s-stop!”  
“I like hearing you beg, you have such a beautiful voice,” The warlord cooed playfully stroking the doctors white armoured leg. “Will you beg some more for me?”

At that Ratchet promptly shut he mouth, ducking his head behind his arm, as if to hide from the sadistic monster. Megatron chuckled darkly while he continued his ministrations a little longer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d performed this on another bot; almost forgotten the sense of power it gave him. Forgotten how delicious the taste of valve lubricant was, or how melodic the noises he could wrangle from a partner were. The muffled whimpers and stifled groans the doctor made as he fought against his own body were so erotically stimulating.

The Decepticon leader’s systems were running hot and with the Autobot now sufficiently ready, his patience was at an end. He sat up and looked over his prisoner with a keen eye. The mech was panting and shaking, cooling fans running loudly, condensation forming on his armour, limbs straining against his restraints. His mouth opened wide as he gulped down air, trying to catch his breath. To Megatron’s optics, he looked beautiful. 

There was a soft click and whirr as his own interfacing panels shifted away. Megatron sighed in relief as his large, hard interfacing spike appeared. It had been getting decidedly uncomfortable within the confines of his panel. He heard the medic’s intakes hitch, and he started to panic at the unmistakeable sound. The Autobot began a new bout of thrashing but Megatron, undeterred, gently pulled him down so the restraints were taunt. He firmly held the medic’s hips down and, to the Autobots horror, he was now completely trapped. Ratchet felt dread seeped into his spark as he finally comprehended that there really was no escape.

“Are you ready doctor?” the Decepticon asked, positioning himself at the wet opening. It was so tempting just to throw caution to the winds, just to slam in and make him ride his spike hard. The silver mech all but moaned at the thought. Later, he promised himself, there will be time for that later. He looked up to see the utterly distressed look on the medics handsome face.

“N-no! Please, don’t do this! Please don’t!” Blue optics wide, bright and pleading. “Please.” Megatron reached up, ran the backs of his fingers over the shivering mecha’s face. He almost felt sorry for the good doctor. Almost. But he was enjoying himself far too much to stop and the emotional anguish he was going through was just what he’d wanted… it was perfect, just like the bot beneath him. The white mech was truly gorgeous.

“Oh my dear Doctor, I’m afraid I can’t… you’ve driven me to do this.” Megatron said quietly, running a sharp talon over the medics parted lip plating. “I can’t resist you any longer.”  
He lent over, seizing Ratchets lips with his own. Ratchets cry of distress was swallowed by Megatron’s hungry kiss. He simultaneously slipped his long glossa into the medic’s mouth while he gently pushed into the mechs wet port. Ratchet tensed as the tyrant breached his tight opening, pushing into him steadily until completely sheathed. The tyrant’s engines roared with great satisfaction as he rested flush against the medics body. The Autobot was so deliciously snug around him, the channel warm and wet and his very plating tingled from the delectable feeling and the knowledge that he was shamelessly defiling what Optimus held most dear.

“Mmmm,” Megatron moaned, releasing the medics trembling lips, “So tight… you feel wonderful,” he purred, nuzzling his neck.  
Ratchet let out a choked sob of distress. He wanted to offline. He didn’t know if it could get worse. He silently cursed his appalling luck when large Decepticon started to move, slowly pulling himself out before steadily driving back in. The monster’s spike was as thick as it was long, stretching him wide while intruding deeply, each and every inevitable time. The spikes defined ridges striking and working over sensors relentlessly as it moved back and forth. The sickeningly wet sound of sliding, lubricated metal and the warlords own grunts of gratification assaulting his audios with every move.

Part of him wished Megatron had just simply gotten on, fragged him, overloaded and then thrown him back in his cell. Ratchet could have coped if the mech had been brutally rough; it was what he’d been expecting the moment he realised what the mad-mech had planned for him. It would have focused his anger and given him something to fight back against, given Ratchet another reason to hate him.

But this. This was beyond his belief. Megatron was… being so gentle, taking it slow and easy. Making it, dare he admit even just to himself, pleasurable. The truth made his plating crawl as he felt the tyrant take his time with each gentle, lingering thrust. His inner sensors flared wildly with each successive stroke, Megatron filled him tightly as his large clawed servos caressed his white hips. Tender kisses scattered on armour followed and feather light nips from sharp denta. He was being so, very gentle… just like Optimus. 

With his optics shuttered, he could almost fool himself into thinking that it was his Prime. Especially when he bit down on his neck… or he angled his hips just so… He felt his tanks churning and his mind span in disgust. He felt ashamed and guilty. Megatron had successfully made him feel… dirty… and even more used then if he’d simply just been pinned down and pounded into the berth by this monster. This unexpected pleasure was a far worse torture then any beating he could have suffered. It was a betrayal to his beloved Primed on the most intimate of levels.

Megatron smiled as he licked along Ratchets chest, he could feel his spark pulsing wildly under the glass and armour, could see the conflicting emotions twisting on the medics faceplates. He revelled in the Autobot’s panting and strangled gasps when he pulled out and plunged back in, feeling the delicious writhing and jerks of the doctor’s body against his own. He knew the medic was fighting a desperate battle against his own body… and losing badly.

He still wanted nothing more than to hold those sturdy legs open and piston into his deliciously tight, wet port. To hear the Autobot scream with every sharp, armour cracking thrust he could muster. He wanted the Autobot to know what it meant to be truly and utterly fragged raw. But he’d wait; he needed the bot to fulfil his purpose first. After he had completed his task and before he let him go, he’d have him just as he wanted. For now he’d play it safe. It was maddening, but looks he saw and the half sobbed cries to stop from that beautiful voice, made it more than worth it. 

It wasn’t enough to simply overload in him; that would be too easy. For the medic to conceive, they had to merge sparks and bond but it was a small price to pay for getting what he wanted. The bond would fade over time, but never truly disappear. It gave him perverse delight to know that when he was back with the Prime, the doctor would feel his presence constantly lingering in the back of his consciousness for the rest of his life. A constant, indelible reminder of what they’d done.

“Open up,” Megatron purred. Without ceasing his movements he tapped lightly on the medics chest, leaving no doubt as to what he wanted.  
“Bite me.” Ratchet hissed through grunts. Though his voice was quiet, the fire was still very much alive.  
“Heh, later my pet,” he chuckled, placing a kiss against the mechs face. “But for now, open your chest plating… or I’ll rip you open,” he growled lowly into his audio. 

He actually had no intention of hurting him, he just needed to convince Ratchet to open willingly. The threat of pain would hopefully be enough to sway him. He revved his engines, causing both their platting to rattle from the vibrations. A savage grin spread over the Decepticons face when he felt the mech shiver under him and he let his claws gently scratch over the window glass.

“Do it and I promise you, after we’ve had our fun I’ll let you go,” he offered silkily. “If you don’t, I’ll see too it your beloved Prime will be without his medic… and he’ll be picking pieces of you up from the four corners of this world.”  
As much as Ratchet desperately wanted to refuse, he knew without question that Megatron would make good on his threat. He’d known him perform worse acts of violence on his captives through countless millennia of war, through watching his home and comrades die. In truth, the prospect of death didn’t really concern him anymore. What did, however, was the thought of leaving his team. Of never seeing Optimus again. The very prospect was spark-breaking. 

They would be left even more vulnerable than ever before without his medical skills and Optimus… He couldn’t leave him, couldn’t even bear the thought of it. He’d do anything to continue to serve him, to protect him. Even if it meant sacrificing a piece of his very spark to this demon, with only the remotest hope he’d actually keep his word and release him, it was a chance he’d willingly take. Ratchet knew what the consequences would be, but if it meant he’d be able to return and continue to serve Optimus as his medic, he could live with it. If anything else, it would get this ordeal over with quicker.

Ratchet would be dishonoured. Tainted forever and eternally unworthy of the gracious Prime’s affection. He had no doubt that when he found out what he’d done, Optimus would dismiss him as his consort. There was the possibility he’d even be ostracised by the entire team for his indecent transgression. It was either accept the shame and live to continue fighting or refuse and die here on his back in the clutches of the Decepticon fiend. It was a horrible choice. He shuttered his optics, unable to bear the sight of the mech above him any longer or bare his own shame at seemed to swell inside at what he was about to do. He threw away pride, gathered his courage and made his decision. 

“You’ll release me if I do?” he asked quietly. Ratchet grunted as the mech lent over him, pushing himself as deeply inside as physically possible. Megatron ran his glossa over the doctor’s chest as he moved over his neck and along an audio fin. He stilled, paused to enjoy the closeness as he replied.  
“You have my word, Doctor.”  
“For all that’s worth,” Ratchet spat out bitterly.

“Well, you’ll soon find out.” Megatron smiled, leaning back before continuing the steady, relentless rhythm that drove the doctor’s sensors into spasms of delight and his conscious into fits of guilt. Ratchets chest heaved from laboured intakes. Not wanting to drag this out any longer, he forced himself to activate the appropriate protocols. Moments later his protective chest armour shifted and unfolded to reveal his rapidly pulsating, pale blue spark. 

The large Decepticon took a moment to appreciate the sheer beauty of the sight before him as he moved on top of the Autobot. Blue light spilled out into the room, bathing his silver armour in a pulsing, unearthly brilliance. Even if this was a diabolical, underhanded and callous way of getting the offspring he desired, he still took the time to relish in the wonderment he felt upon seeing other mech’s life force. A respect arose for the mech brave enough to bear his spark in front of him and more so to willingly surrender a part of his own being for his commander. 

“You’re stunning, my pet.” Megatron admitted, gently reaching in and carefully caressing the casing. The static made his servos tingle and Ratchet whimpered at the increasingly intimate touch.  
“Stop calling me that. I’m not your fragging pet!” The medic forced out through gritted denta.  
“After this,” Megatron said lowly, snapping open his own plating to reveal his own spark. Dark violet energy rippled and pulsed in his chest. “You will be.” 

Ratchet cried out as the tyrant surged forward, seizing his lips in a harsh kiss, pressing their bodies tightly together. He felt the Deception’s spark engulf his own. Megatron’s spark was terrifyingly cold, filled with so much anger, hate and contaminated with dark Energon. The tainted purple spark devoured his cool blue life force with ravenous greedy desire, not leaving a thread of his being untouched. Megatron consumed him completely. Ratchet thrashed wildly and screamed… 

The intense raw power of dark energy filled his senses entirely. The medic started to drown in a turbulent sea of darkness, it was frightening and… Thrilling . By Primus… it felt so… good. So very wrong but… at the same time, indescribably exhilarating. A thousand times better than any synthetic Energon. Ever fibre, every molecule of his being was suddenly electrified, charged with the purest, raw blackness. It made every touch, thrust, kiss or bite the Decepticon bestowed feel like nothing the doctor had ever experienced before in his long life.

With the sudden rush of foreign energy, also came the first anchors of a bond forming between them. Tendrils of the tyrant’s consciousness latched onto his, forcing its way into the Autobot’s mind and soul, binding them together. Ratchet felt the Decepticon’s black lust, his depraved want for him. The confidence, the passion, the sheer force of will and power that flooded his being was intoxicating.

Ratchet was overwhelmed by the sudden torrent of emotions that came from being linked to another being. For so many centuries he’d been bonded to his mate; he’d taken that study solid presents for granted. When he’d died, Ratchet thought his very spark would shatter. That the unfathomable loneliness, the emptiness he felt after his passing… the deafening silence… He’d thought it would swallow him whole. With only his own mind for company he feared he’d go mad; Ratchet had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be with another. 

The sensations he’d missed. Primus, how he had yearned for that intimate connection again. An unspoken, desperate need he’d hidden from himself, something he locked away behind duty, protocol and fear. A yearning to be wanted, needed; to be completely possessed by another. Megatron wanted him, desired him, needed him. Megatron wanted to tear into him, mark his body as a sign to the whole universe that he was his… and dear Primus… Ratchet wanted that too… he wanted to feel those feelings again… he wanted to be claimed like that again… he was already past the point of regret… so, he let go, gave in and lost himself in the unholy union…

At first Megatron felt the resistance of mech beneath him, Ratchets very spark seemed to shy away from his intrusion. Undeterred, he pushed forward to invade the doctor completely. He could feel the other’s spark writhing as fiercely as his body. He actually felt the moment the doctor relented, the instant the barriers and the resistance vanished and let the Tyrant in completely. Megatron wasn’t surprised the medic gave up fighting- it was inevitable- but he was mildly surprised to feel the doctors spark reach out into his own.

Even more surprising was that the medic began moving against him in a much more pleasing way. Instead of just lying there reacting to him, Ratchet started to rock back against him, now meeting Megatrons every thrust with- dare he say- enthusiasm? Their armour crashed together with gusto as they ground together. Ratchet’s once harsh cursing and desperately cried demands to stop now became unrestrained, wanton moans and heady gasps of encouragement. The Decepticon was, understandably, please by the more active participation. 

Megatron gripped him a little harder, feeling a thrill from the doctor, a rush of ecstasy when his claws dug into the metal hard enough to leaving long gouges on his legs. Ratchet was panting hard as they moved in tandem, their pace quickening. They were both very close, he could sense that from their newly formed link, the build of overload drawing nearer. The Decepticon could now tell the Prime’s Consort was enjoying his company a lot more then he probably should. Megatron could feel the other mech’s intense pleasure over their bond from his quickened speed. His whole body tingled with dark glee; it made this momentous event even more sinfully wonderful.

Ratchet was now crying out with every long deep thrust, the thick ribbed spike felt blissfully wonderful as it filled him completely, deeply, over and over again. He could sense the warlord’s own dark gratification every time their hips ground together. It was becoming too much for him to bare and when Megatron angled his hips, hitting that perfect spot deep within one time to many, it pushed him over the edge of euphoria. Ratchet yelled to the heavens, praising his god as his systems surged with burning energy. 

Cabled interior walls were sent into waves of intense contractions. The sudden vicelike rippling caresses on the Decepticon’s spike, combined with the sudden shock of white hot pleasure washing through their linked spark as the doctor overloaded, sent the silver mech crashing into the most intense overload of his life. Megatrons engines gave a deafening roar as his systems were assaulted with a rush of dizzying power.

The tyrant snarled his release into the Autobot’s audio as his hips jerked violently and his thick, dark Energon enriched transfluid shot deep into the medic. It filled the white bots conception tank till it overflowed, dripping lewdly from the edges of his stretched- taunt valve. It sent deliciously powerful sensation through the doctor’s entire body as he was filled, coating and charging all the sensors in his valve and tank to make him shudder and writhe against the Decepticon in indecent pure ecstasy. It felt so sinfully good. Ratchet was completely lost in the delirium of utter bliss. 

Megatron’s body shuddered violently, the intensity of the overload affecting all of his systems. His entire body feeling entirely too weak, he puffed noisily as he forced himself to sit up. Panting heavily, he gazed down and gently caressed the Autobots abdominal plating. He watched while the Autobots chest slowly closed, enjoying his captive’s valve’s delicious rippling spasms. It was almost like the medic was trying to greedily suck in every last drop of transfluid from his spike. Moments later, when they finely stopped, Megatron pulled himself out of the doctor, the slick sound of his spike leaving the warm channel sending a pleasant shiver down his spinal strut. 

Between his legs, the medics armour was smeared with his own bluish lubricants and Megatrons lilac- tinted transfluid, a thick trail leaking thickly out of his port from tanks that were swollen full. It was like a perverse artwork on the snowy white canvas body. Even his once clear blue spark now was marbled with dark purple energy, he watched the last of the bright swirling vortex of duel coloured energy as it disappeared behind armour plating. The Decepticon caressed the doctors closed heaving chest almost tenderly. 

“Well my pet, I believe that you enjoyed that, hmm?” Megatron chuckled feeling the medic’s residual pleasant emotions. He had expected some scathing comment in reply, but instead got a shock when the doctor said nothing and opened his optics to look up at him. Ratchet gazed up at the Decepticon with a dazed yet pleased expression, his optics glowing with a strange violet tone. Megatron hummed in curiosity; the dark Energon must be acting upon his systems in unforeseen ways. He’d have to get Knock-out to look into it but for now, he was tired and sated. He was done with his captive, at least for the time being.

“Well Doctor… I must say this has been fun. You’ve been truly wonderful, but I really need my rest,” he purred. Leaning over, Megatron hooked a finger under the doctors decorated chin and place a chaste kiss on his lips. “I’ll have Soundwave take you back to your cell to rest.”  
“Hun-?” A bewildered look crossed the Autobots face. “You’re… Kicking me out?” Megatron was taken aback by the sudden wave of unbelievable hurt that flowed over into his spark; it was so potent it made his own spark ach. He actually felt… bad for suggesting it.  
“Well I-” 

“You fragger!” Ratchet yelled. Megatron saw the enraged look cross the medics face for only a split second, before the medic snarled. To his astonishment, the Autobot managed to rip the restraints clean from the wall in one violent move. Megatron was too shocked to react when the medic jumped him, slamming him onto his back against the large berth and making the best use of his relatively great weight to keep the stunned warlord down.

“How dare you even think about throwing me out!” Ratchet snarled in outrage. Megatron was actually… afraid by the anger that flowed over the bond towards him. He was even more concerned and then confused when the doctors face suddenly softened. “We haven’t finished playing yet.” Ratchet smirked darkly, his purple optics glowing brightly. The Autobot lent forward and roughly kissed the Decepticon. The medic moaned in delight as he slipped his glossa between the tyrant’s lips, running it skilfully over razor sharp denta. Megatron’s CPU stalled. This had not been on his list of possible outcomes.


	3. A Truly Unforeseen Outcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron expected many things.... but not this...

It was truly absurd! This was Optimus Primes consort, a mech that had been loyal to the Prime for centuries. Megatron had just forcibly interfaced with and bonded to this mech. Even if he could contribute the hungry kisses and wandering hands of the doctor to his, dare he say spectacular performance, there was simply no logical reason why Ratchet should be acting like this. Only one thing came to his suspicious mind that he could agree with: This had to be some sort of deception.

With his guard now raised, Megatron roughly grabbed the medic by the throat and forced him back with a dangerous warning growl. He pushed him far enough off so he could sit up, forcing the Autobot to support his weight on all fours. The doctor gasped lightly but didn’t struggle against him- on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy the firm hold. The medic simply gave a small seductive smile and loudly revved his engines in a blatant display of arousal. The Decepticon’s optics went wide in complete disbelief. Not a click later Megatron’s comm went off. 

//Lord Megatron: do you require aid?// Came the urgent, panicked voice of his communications officer. No doubt he had been monitoring the cameras and had been alarmed to see the Autobot break free of his bonds and pounce on his leader. Megatron was grateful for the mech’s restraint in not storming in immediately as Ratchet started caressing the large mech. The Medics finely tuned, sensitive servos expertly delved into seams and delicately fondled wires, teasing any sensor nodes he could get a hold of with clear, expert intent. 

//Stand by Soundwave.// The tyrant ordered, his curiosity peaked. Just where was the Autobot planning on taking this? He knew this could be a huge miscalculation on his part if this turned to be a trick, a machination designed to lull him into letting his guard down. The doctor was crafty and talented; he could kill him in seconds. A well placed servo could immobilize him, giving the medic time to pull enough Energon lines and have him bleed to death in mere moments. But Megatron did have the ever watchful spy monitoring the situation. He had faith that his eternally loyal servant would be quick to act should things go amiss.

The ex-gladiator let out a grunt as the medic tweaked a nerve cluster, a delightful shiver running over his body. Needless to say, all the attention felt very good. No one had touched him like this, with such enthusiasm, confidence and without the slightest hit of fear, for millennia. Ratchet’s smile widened at the reactions he drew as his hands worked. The medic then gave a few short, melodic clicks and trills from his vocalizer, followed by a low rumble of his engines. Megatron prosseser stalled and he sat there in shock. That was an old, but blatantly clear message. It was an offer to mate. 

It had been even longer since the war lord had an offer like that made to him. It thrilled him, stirring something deep and primal in his spark. So much so, he found himself answering, reciprocating with the appropriate response, a trilling growl to inform the medic of his interest. The quiet room was then filled with the sounds of their elegant, melodic vocal tones. 

Trills, clicks, whistles, chirps and a plethora of other metallic sounds filled the room, each mech making and answering with precise complicated patterns of sound filled with promises and meaning. Their servos began to roam experimentally, teasingly over each other, ghosting over chestplates, running up and down arms or softly stroking a cheek or jaw. It was an old courtship ritual of sound and touch. Incredibly intimate and for Cybertronians… as hot as pit fire itself. 

Megatrons engines rumbled in delight. This was too wonderful to believe. If the doctor was really trying to fool him, he was certainly pulling out the works to impress him. Each sound doctor produced made his circuits tingle and his interfacing panel burn with renewed need. He had to find out how far the Doctor was willing to go with a charade, also he was incapable of taking much more of his berth- partner’s teasing. With a cautious touch, he trailed a servo round to the medics back… and dug his claws in with such force it pierced the armour plating, deep enough to draw Energon.

The cry that came out of the Autobots mouth was not what he expected. He had anticipated a howl of agony and any pretence dropped like a tonne of cybertronium. Instead what he got was a sharp gasp of delight that morphed into a deep, throaty groan. Ratchets optics shuttering with a look of sheer bliss on his face, his engines revved noisily in response to the sharp pleasure- pain lancing through him. Ratchet bowed his head submissively as he inched forward, leaning down to trailing hot kisses along the Decepticons chest and emitting soft clicking noises that seemed to go straight to the gladiators spike. Megatron was, for lack of a better word, dumbfounded.

Dark Energon. It had to be. There was simply no other explanation and his only plausible conclusion. It could bring the dead to life, endow a bot with the power of a god or, as it would seem to be in this case, corrupt even the most noble of sparks. The change in optic colouring would back his theory. However, any thoughts of why were thrown to the back of his processor as Ratchet began to move against the Decepticon leader, rubbing his body slowly over the silver mechs. The doctor chirped invitingly, stimulating the gladiator’s systems into mating readiness. 

Megatron ran his servo down the medics back over the fresh wounds, feeling the bot quake and whimper, the medic leaning in to his touch. Something had been let out of the medic, something dark, needy and wanton. Megatron could feel a desperate desire to be claimed through their bond as well as… something else. He had to concentrate a little harder to figure it out.

When he did… it shocked him to the core. The Autobot… wanted to be sparked. He didn’t know why, but to be honest, he now didn’t really care. All he knew for certain was this mech, for some reason, now wanted him… want Megatron to claim him… wanted the Decepticon to fill his reproductive tanks and get him sparked. It was an unbelievable notion, but the evidence presented pushed him to take it as the truth. 

//Lord Megatron: Do you require aid?// The spies voice sounded again in his mind and distracted him momentarily- Megatron had forgotten the mech was still on hold. With his attention elsewhere, the medic took the lapse in concentration as an opportunity to crawl into his lap, beginning to hum gently as he nipped along a broad, silver shoulder. Megatron groaned loudly in approval. 

//No, Soundwave. I think everything is under control for the time being.//  
//Soundwave: continue to monitor.// It was a statement rather then a question, he’d known the mech long enough to tell the difference. Right now though, he was more interested in the mech on top of him.  
//yes, very good Soundwave. Continue to monitor us.// he said before shutting off the comm and turning his full attention back to the medic. 

“Do you want more, my pet?” the Decepticon asked as he ran his servos over the Autobots thighs, making him shiver in need.  
“Yes.” he whispered huskily against Megatrons neck cables, nipping them seductively before drawing back.  
“Do you want me?” he asked, slipping his servos over the doctors aft to give it a good, hard squeeze.  
“Oh yesss…” The medic purred, delighted with his berth-mate’s newfound attentiveness.

The Decepticon’s interfacing spike was fully re-pressurised, again ready for action from the doctor’s clever ministrations and sensual calls. He rubbed the length of his spike over the medics opening, still uncovered and dripping wet from their last joining. Lubricant and transfluid dripped thickly onto the hard, hot metal, causing his sensors to flare and twitch in wildly in anticipation. 

Without any hesitation, Ratchet took the initiative. The doctor quickly positioned himself, bracing against the large mech, he angled his hips to guide the tip of the warlords spike to his entrance. The medic descended slowly with the most obscene moan, shuddering in delight as he was stretched and filled for a second time that evening. His servos gripped Megatron’s shoulders tightly, hard enough to dent the metal. The tyrant’s breath hitched at the erotic sight before him; the feel of the Autobot’s hot, sticky, willing valve expanding to fit his massive proportions. It was almost enough to make the Decepticon overloaded then and there. He watched in something close to awe as the medic started to impale himself on his spike, moving gracefully as he forced himself to take it a little deeper with every thrust.

The sight was as exquisite as the feeling. In this position he penetrated so deeply into the medic’s body, the angle causing delightful friction against the mechs snug, cabled walls. Every sensor was hit on the way in and out as the Autobots body moved with fluid grace, arching and grinding against him in ecstasy. Megatron servos lightly cupped the Doctors aft, providing only as the lightest of encouragements as the Autobot moved freely towards his pleasure. 

Ratchet’s panting gasps of need mixed with Megatrons own breathy moans of enjoyment, their pleasure steadily increasing as their pace quickened. The smell of transfluid and lubricant was thick in the air and the heat coming off their bodies caused condensation to form in damp sheen that drip over their armour. Onwards they drove releasing puffs of steam from overheated systems. It was all so exquisite that They both didn’t stand a chance of lasting long. 

Megatron overloaded for a second time in with a throaty moan, erupting into the doctors welcoming valve. Hot, sticky transfluid flooded into the medic and Ratchet gave a sharp keen at the sensation, shuddering as he reached his own climax. His valve contracted hard on the spike within as he rode out his own overload. 

When it was over, Megatron barely had a moments rest before the doctor pounced on him again, crushing his mouth into the Decepticon’s. The doctor’s glossa, once used to great affect at giving insults was now caressing and explorative, locking their faces together with a fierce passion. Megatron ran his talons greedily over the doctor’s bodywork feeling sated and smug, proud and delighted in equal measures at the outcome.

Time seemed to escape him as they ravaged each other’s mouths, their cooling fans working loudly as they occupied themselves with exploring each others oral cavity. Intense waves of want flowed back and forth between their sparks, mutual feelings of desire and pleasure that lifted them to a higher state of euphoria. Megatron was bathing in the heady sent of their mating, the sweet taste of the Autobots lips, the feel of the hot red and white body pressed tightly against his own. 

After a time, Ratchet began to lean back, coaxing the tyrant with him. Megatron obliged eagerly, their lips never separating as they moved. He found himself back on top of the heated medic and Ratchet murmured in approval as the Decepticon settled between his legs, his hefty weight pushing him into the berth. The medics sturdy, shapely legs wrapped around the tyrants waist, clever hands skirted underneath armour as the medic’s talented mouth plundering his own. Megatron moaned with delight, engines rumbling deeply.

“Frag me again…” Ratchet purred against his lips.   
“Haven’t you had quite enough?” The warlord laughed in amusement, starting back as he received a painful bite to his neck cabling. Megatron, shocked by the unexpectedly painful attack, slammed the ‘bot back in to the berth. He snarled down at the Autobot, only to find Ratchet looking unafraid and rather smug.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough. Of course… if you’re not mech enough to handle me for another round, you should just say so,” he taunted with his most devilishly sly smile. “Maybe I should go find someone else up for the exercise, hmmm? Breakdown, perhaps?” Bubbly, playful feelings flooded over his spark from the doctor and newly lilac optics literally twinkling with restrained mischief.

Megatron blinked. The doctor was… teasing him. Playing with him. This was… truly preposterous, but utterly delightful. He laughed to himself, still not quite believing this wonderful gift the dark ones have given him- and such a beautiful gift it was. His anger disappeared; hold relenting as he ran his servos over the red metal of his overheated chassis. If he wanted to play, then the Decepticon would certainly accommodate him.

“Beg me for it,” he grinned with a growl, roughly separating the medics legs. Ratchet gasped, fans coming online again.  
“Hasn’t your ego been stroked enough today?” The Autobot pouted adorably.  
“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough,” Megatron rumbled, turning Ratchets own words back at him. The medic scowled as he wriggled in frustration beneath him; Megatron was not going to be swayed so easily.  
“I’m waiting,” he purred, stroking the medic’s knee joints. Ratchet rolled his optics and sighed loudly replying in an irritated tone.  
“Fine….”   
He cleared his throat and looked up at the warlord with possibly the most sultry expression he’d ever seen in his long life.

“Please… Megatron… I need you,” Ratchet whispered huskily, trailing the tips of his servos sensually over the Decepticons arms and rubbing his stretched leaking valve over the length of the Decepticon’s spike. “I need your big, hard spike in me. I want all of you in me. I want you to frag me so hard I ache. I want you to mark me, claim me as yours… please… my Lord… I want you so badly...” 

The Decepticons engines roared loudly in fresh arousal as he ground against the doctor’s body. He was so very turned on from the medic’s words and by the use of his chosen title, words dripping from the Autobot’s lips like honey. Ratchet smiled brightly up at him, caressing the expansive silver chest. “Now if you’re through with your little power trip… will you frag me already?”   
“Who am I to disobey a doctor’s orders,” The tyrant murmured.

Without any further ado, it was Megatron’s turn to pounce on the medic. He roughly yanked his knees apart, pinning the white legs open against the berth to display his bare panel yet again. This time there was no pause of anticipation, no slow drawn out entrance, not even a moment between lining himself up and plunging in with one sharp, forceful thrust. 

“AAH! Oh Primus yes!” Ratchet cried out, throwing his head back in bliss at being filled so suddenly. Megatron gave him no time to adjust as his onslaught began. With no pretence of tenderness or caution, he let his suppressed urges finally take over and begun pounding into the willing body beneath him. Over and over again he drove into the hot dripping valve that called him back into it embrace every time he withdrew. He growled, shifting his hold to the medics hips to give him a better grip that would let him pull the Autobot to meet his every armour cracking thrust. Ratchet seemed to approve as he wrapped his legs around the large mech, using his own strength to meet every impact.   
.  
This was more like it; this was what he looked for in a mate. Megatron revelled in the loud lusty cries of pleasure as he slammed hard into the Autobot, finally denting the pristine armour plating. His sharp claws left long, ugly scratches on fresh paint as he gripped and tore at his lover. He revelled in Ratchet’s moans of bliss as he bit down hard on cables or slammed mercilessly into sensitive internal sensors. White and silver flecks dusted the berth like snow as they scraped together ever faster and harder, the larger mech responding to breathless pleas for more. 

The Doctors silky voice goaded him on, yelling out his name, calling to his god, begging him to go deeper, faster, harder. Always harder. His clever hands clawed at his silver armour, causing scratches and dents of their own as they moved over his body. They soon abandoned his tough outside to slide under his protective plating, tweaking and pulling at wires in such a way that pleasure and pain were combined in a dizzying spiral.

Megatron had been worried, he’d played it so safe before and caused nothing but pleasure to the mech to ensure the bonding went smoothly and ensure a healthy newspark. But it seemed he didn’t need to worry any longer. Ratchet was clearly enjoying their rougher play, registering his harsh movements as something to be anticipated and welcomed. He could feel it through their link, the intense, tingling pleasure/pain that seemed to stimulate his lover even more than it did him. 

Megatron focused all his attention on the mech in his berth, losing himself completely in this act of purest lust. The repeatedly rough, fast thrusts into the welcoming, sturdy body beneath him were an utterly blissful indulgence. He hadn’t had a lover this feisty or willing for quite some time- not all bots could handle this kind of punishment and enjoy it. Reaching out, he took hold of the doctor’s face, forcing him to look him in the optic.

“Was. This. What. You. Wanted?” He grunted, punctuating each word with a harsh intrusion. “Am. I. Mech. Enough. For. You. Now?”   
“Oh yes, uggh!” Ratchet groaned deeply, looking back at the Decepticon with what he could only read as complete submission. “Please, don’t stop! Aaagh! J-just what I wanted! Errgh! Oh Primus, yes! Ugh! Just like that! Aaahugh! Oh, don’t stop! Please don’t you fragging stop!” He begged, grip tightening around the tyrant’s limbs and torso. Megatrons pace increased with a snarl, Ratchet’s words only fuelling the Decepticon’s lustful fire.

In the midst of their passion, Ratchet’s chest plating snapped opened again in a silent invitation. Without thought, Megatron opened his own and plunged back into the Autobot’s core. There was no resistance as before, this time the doctor reached out and invaded right back with his own aggressive, greedy desire. The intense stimulation was far too much for them both, and their overload came with a deafening roar and a scream. 

White hot energy burned through their circuits, bliss washing through them in a torrent of white fire and the Decepticon’s claws dug so far into the medics armour he drew fresh Energon. Thick, luminous blue liquid began seeping through the deep cuts, coating his talons and falling to the berth. It only added to the sweet mix of sensations they shared as he spurted more of his dark transfluid into the medic. 

The Autobot’s valve contractions again milked him of every drop. With his reproductive tanks already more than full, the viscous chemical mix flooded his valve, seeping out of the tightly filled channel and sending delightful aftershocks of charges through both their sensor nets. Megatron let out a relieved huff as he emptied the last of his fluids into the bot under him. He was impressed with himself; he hadn’t thought his body had any more reserves left. 

Megatron collapsed on top to the Autobot as the waves became less intense, his struts feeling like jelly, completely and utterly spent. His intakes worked hard to cool him after so much exertion. He felt like he’d gone a dozen rounds with Prime on the battle field. The Decepticon had to admit this was far more pleasant though, and allowed himself to wallow in the enjoyable fuzziness of post mating haze. He hadn’t felt this good in a very long time. He was brought out of his daze by a soft voice at his audio.

“As much as I like you there,” Ratchet panted, wriggling his hips and making the large mech shiver, his still sensitive spike trapped within the medic. “You’re rather heavy. Get off.” He said gently, planting a kiss on the Decepticons cheek. Megatron snorted at the oddly affectionate act but obliged. With a great deal of effort he extracted himself from his lover’s snug embrace with a grunt, spilling more sticky fluid onto the berth as he rolled off. The silver mech flopped down beside him with a great sigh of what could only be described as complete equanimity. 

With a happy little murmur Ratchet curled up close to the warlord’s side. His systems hummed with his own contentment as he slid an arm around the Decepticon’s waist. Megatron laid there, astonishment playing on his face as the medic… snuggled… to his side and drifted off almost instantly into peaceful recharge. Megatron couldn’t believe where this night had gone. From snappy, belligerent Autobot to submissive yet feisty sex bot in less then a few hours. 

That seconded merge was completely unplanned and equally unexpected. The other spark merge would only have increased their chances of conceiving and if they already had, it would only be beneficial to the newspark. Megatron had thought he’d only get a single chance at a merge, but was more than pleased at the Autobot’s receptivity. It also seemed that all wouldn’t be lost if they hadn’t managed to spark tonight. If he was reading his new bond- mate’s emotions correctly, it looked that Ratchet was more than happy with their little affair. Megatron was almost certain it wouldn’t take much to convince the Autobot to interface again; he’d just have to make sure the doctor was well rested before they did so.

He wasn’t sure where this left them now. Megatron had planned to keep a resistant Ratchet in reasonably comfortable quarters under lock, key and heavy guard while incubation took place. He had also intended on visiting every so often to indulging in carnal pleasures as he waited for the medic to drop the sparkling. After all, overload charges were good for developing young. The war lord had never expected the Autobot to ever be a willing participant; never dreamt that he would be, of all things, pleased to be in his berth. He’d have to re think his plan. 

But he was too tired to worry at this point in time, re-charge protocols demanding a shut down after so much activity. His systems were completely spent and the sound of the doctor’s engines idling next to him in as he rested only seemed to further lull him towards recharge. With the last of his dwindling strength he opened a comm link.

//Soundwave//  
//Soundwave: standing by: remove Autobot: Lord Megatron?// The spy asked. Megatron unconsciously wound a protective arm around the sleeping bot.  
//Change of plans, I’m going to keep the Autobot here.//  
//Decision: Risky// The Decepticon leader huffed, far to tired to be arguing even with his loyal TIC.  
//I am aware of the risk, but I don’t think he’s going to be a problem anymore. Though I would ask you to monitor him while we sleep. If it does look like he’s going to try and kill me while I recharge, come in and cart him off to the holding room, understood?// There was a brief pause. He could tell the spy was not happy with his decision, but nevertheless he knew he’d follow his orders.

//By your command: Lord Megatron// Came the inevitable answer.   
//Thank you Soundwave.// When the connection was cut he sighed and relaxed back into the berth, optic shutters sliding into place. The slowly cooling form of his new bond mate at his side, the gentle purr of Ratchets systems and the wash of warm air from his vents, beckoned the Decepticon to shut down and rest with him. Megatron pulled Ratchet closer and was only too happy to obey.


	4. Watch and Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave watches... his spark heavy with what is to come...

Soundwave leant back in his chair, allowing himself to relax and ponder the enigma before him within the safety of his own quarters. He brought his servos together, his slender fingers pressing against each other as he gazed at the now still figures on the monitors. A puff of air vented slowly from his systems. It had been a long, peculiar and… stressful day.

As his Lord had requested, he had set about attending to the dirty and damaged Autobot. Ratchet had been a… handful to say the least. It had taken four drone troops to drag the doctor down to the Medical bay. Soundwave almost didn’t believe that this was the same mech that had once been a member of the high council. He snarled out vicious insults or lashed out with remarkably well aimed blows, acting like a problematic low class ground pounder instead of a noble member of the Senate. 

Soundwave also found out how strong the doctor was first- hand. He was grateful that he had his vocalizer muted; it prevented him from making an undignified howl of pain when the medic caught him on the shin with a violent kick that knocked him off his feet. He knew for a fact that the dents from that particular trip wouldn’t be coming out easily. 

The first stop was Knock-Out at the med-bay so he could repair the Medic’s damage. It didn’t take long for the handsome red sports-car to start fuming and cursing the ambulance’s name. In the space of a few microts, Ratchet had managed to overturn two trolleys of tools, knock over a table of volatile chemicals the Decepticon physician was working on and, in all the confusion, made a bolt for the door.

The Decepticons wrestled the Autobot back into the medical centre and up onto the examination berth. It took all of them, including Breakdown, just to hold him down. Knock-Out, having had enough commotion, he pumped the mech full of sedatives to keep him under some sort of control. The medication worked fast and Ratchet’s struggles soon ceased as he flopped back against the berth. The troops breathed sighs of relief, stepping aside as the medic stilled and his snide harsh words became barely legible audio murmers. 

“Well… that should keep him compliant for a while,” the doctor smirked, putting the syringe away.  
//Knock-out: Autobot requires: complete overhaul: Make appropriate repairs: medical and cosmetic// Soundwave instructed to the medic.  
“Why all the special treatment?” The Doctor inquired, intrigue glittering in his red optics. “Is Megatron trying to butter the Autobot up to replace me?” he chuckled.  
//Reason: not your concern: Position: secure: Knock-Out: Perform repairs: Explanation: not required: Do not question// The spy told him firmly.  
“Alright! Don’t get your wires in a knot, I was just curious,” he cried, holding his servos up in a placating gesture.  
//Curiosity: ill-advised.//

With a huff and mutter of ‘you’re no fun’, the Decepticon medic set about starting his work. Knock-Out was quick and precise, and worked well with Breakdown. The red mech began the tedious task of repairing and calibrating Ratchet’s systems and engines while his assistant commenced with the cosmetic repairs. Replaceing the ambulance’s worn rubber tyres and scratched window. When he finished, he proceeded to start banging out the dents and filling in the scrapes and cuts that littered the Autobots old body.

“By the All-Spark, you’d think as a doctor he would know to take better care of himself,” Knock-Out commented as he tinkered underneath some plating.   
//Knock-out: Explain// Soundwave needed to know of any problems that would cause… complications for his master’s plan.   
“Well… there’s a whole lot of little things. His joints are stiff from a build up of residue gunk. His hydraulics are operating at a far to low compression- that indicates a leak somewhere, most of his internal wiring needs to be replaced, his hands are in desperate need of a tuning and that’s just the start of a lot of whole host of niggly, irritating things.” He puffed air out of his intakes as he drew back and rested a hand on his hip.   
//Cause?//  
“If I were to diagnose the cause of the damage, I would put all this down to a combination of age and poor maintenance. His internal systems are far more worn out than what they should be, but I’d put that down to working too hard on not enough fuel.”  
“Well at least one of Megatron’s plans seems to be working,” Breakdown chuckled as he worked a sander over a rough patch of metal. “If we keep holding all the Energon, perhaps the Autobots will wear themselves out so that they’ll start staying down when we hit ‘em.” Soundwave said nothing, just pondered the information as the pair continued to work.

When they were done, Soundwave helped the still heavily sedated Autobot off the berth; there was still more to be done. Knock-Out informed him that the sedatives would last for another good few vorns, plenty of time to complete his orders. The spy was grateful for small mercies- it’d make the next stages easier and he wouldn’t need to reapply the stasis cuffs. The comm officer and four troopers marched the white mech out of the Medical centre and down to the maintenance bay. The slender, silent bot stayed close to the subdued mech. Ratchet’s optics were half shuttered and he swayed wildly as he was shuffled down the hall, but the spy gently steadied him, catching him every so often when he stumbled as they made their way.

Upon entering the bay, the mechs that ran the facilities started the preparations for the doctor’s new paint job. Buzzing around, they began calibrating the machinery and tried to match the Autobots paint colours. The only concession they had to make was that they didn’t have the exact tone of red the medic currently had. 

After a brief consultation, Soundwave authorized them to use a Knock-Outs own shade of red. It was only a couple of shades darker than his current colouring but the spy felt the vibrant, rich red would be aesthetically pleasing next to the brilliant white.

But before any of that, the medic had to be cleaned properly. This was the place on the ship where nearly all Decepticons came to rid themselves of dirt and debris in the communal wash racks, as well restore and shine their paintjobs. Officers had their own private wash rooms in their quarters but most still when there to get clean, It was so much easier to get someone else to spray your paint than trying to do it yourself. Cleaning and detailing was considered a highly social activity on the Nemesis, it promoted team building within the ranks.

Two of the attendants were about to take Ratchet into the racks when the spy ordered them to stop. Soundwave knew what was waiting for the mech when they were finished with him. Once he was prepared, the spy would turn him over to his Master to use as he wished. Despite being loyal, despite him following his Lord’s orders in all things, it didn’t mean that they all sat well with him; he knew too much about the mech beside him. On Cybertron, he’d constantly monitored the Council members and their meetings. Politics both interested and disgusted him in equal amounts. He had heard all the members speak, evaluated them and made his own judgements about their characters. 

Of them all, Ratchet had been one of the few that impressed him. He’d listened to many of the doctor’s addresses to the senate, back before the war. He had agreed with the mech’s observations of their unfair health system and found himself surprised by his simple yet insightful solutions. He admired the mech’s drive to see their planet’s inequality regarding medical care corrected. 

Soundwave consulted and studied the records and overall found the medic to be a honourable Cybertronian. A true physician who didn’t care where a patient was berthed or what they did, Ratchet only wanted all to be treated equally and cared for with the respect any sentient being deserved, no matter what class they were. It was something he himself had wanted from the beginning of this war, abolishment of the class system. It was what Megatron had preached, what originally drew him to his master. It was a shame they had not fall onto the same side of this war. 

Because of all that, Soundwave held a great deal of respect for the mech by his side. Even if he couldn’t spare him from the ordeal to come, he could at least afford him some degree of dignity by not letting him be scrubbed and manhandled any more than needed. It was a duty he would see to personally. Out of respect, not guilt… at least that was what he told himself.

With an order to stay and wait in the main room, Soundwave rested his servo on the medics shoulder and directed him towards the wash rack. Ratchet mumbled something unintelligible, halting in weak protest. He may have been sedated but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of what was happening. Soundwave was silent, gentle yet insistent. The Autobot didn’t have the strength to resist even his softest push towards the cleaning area.

As they walked into a more secluded area, the spy extended a fine data cable from the back of the servo that still rested on the medic’s broad armour. The tendril silently wormed its way under the medics plating, found an access node and latched on with a snap. Ratchet, shuddered with a whimper as the spy accessed his systems. The medic shook his helm sluggishly to try and rid himself of the intruder, but to no avail. Soundwave knew the doctor’s sensitive systems were enabling him to feel every subroutine and program he touched, most bots weren’t that acutely sensitive. He had no doubt the intrusion was unnerving as it were unpleasant. 

Soundwave didn’t want the mech to endure more stress than necessary, all he wanted was access to the doctor’s comm. system, nothing more. He wouldn’t hack into another mech’s mind. He could, but he refused to violate him any further; doing so would cross a line he swore he’d never cross. It was a talent he possessed, one he’d never told anyone about… not even Megatron. Thankfully it only took him a moment to crack the Autobot’s communication encryptions; it would at least allow him to speak directly to the medic.

“Get out… get out of… my head!” Ratchet murmured weakly.  
//Soundwave: Needed access to comm.// The spy said softly.  
“Why?”  
//Necessity.//  
“No… don’t… my processor…” he groaned, clearly fearful that the spy was going to go further into his mind.  
//Soundwave: not infiltrate: Soundwave: Respect privacy// He assured, removing his cable and noting the doctor’s sigh of relief.  
“Now… I’ve… heard everything…”

Ratchet let out a short mirthlessly laugh as he stumbled into the enclosed wash rack, resorting to leaning up against the smooth wall to support himself. Soundwave let him rest while he set about adjusting the chemical shower. The cleaning fluids began to rain down and out from the fittings and he raised the temperature to a more comfortable level. Judging by the built up residue on his plating, he was pretty sure that the Autobots didn’t have chemical showers, relying on the planet’s water to clean their armour. It was a plausible explanation for at least one of Knock-Outs findings. Returning to the doctor, he found him seated quietly on the floor with his back against the wall. Those sedatives were clearly still affecting him rather strongly.

//Autobot: Stand// He sent, reaching down to pull him up.  
“Leave me alone,” Ratchet mumbled, shrugging off the spy’s servo. Soundwave puffed out a long gust of air; a long suffering Cybertronian sigh.  
//Request: denied: Autobot: Must stand.// He informed, this time succeeding in getting the medic to his feet.  
“Screw you.” Ratchet grumbled lowly as he was pulled upright.

Undeterred, Soundwave manoeuvred the doctor under the spray, the mech gasped in mild surprise as he felt the fluid raining down on his armour. The chemicals were warm and began stripping away the dirt and grime almost immediately. It ran down seams, into crevices and under his plating to gently remove the impurities left by the planet’s atmosphere and water.

Stepping into the spray himself, Soundwave began cleaning the medic more thoroughly. His touch purely clinical, he quickly worked a soft washcloth over the doctors body, helping to shift stubborn spots and marks as well as making sure all nooks and crannies were clear of debris. He didn’t allow himself to be side tracked by appreciating the mech’s frame as he worked, it would be highly inappropriate. His job wasn’t easy however, as the Medic did everything in his power to get away from the spy’s touch. But with him being so heavily sedated, it was fairly easy for Soundwave to reposition the Autobot where he wanted. Ratchet’s struggles just made the whole process more disconcerting as he fought weakly to get away from him. 

//Request: remain still// He asked as he worked the cloth over the medics arm.  
“Leave me alone!” Ratchet whined, his optics shuttered. Soundwave didn’t need to be linked to his mind to see he was clearly distressed by the whole process.  
//Request denied: Autobot: requires cleaning: preparation for detailing: Must comply: Cleaning: will happen: No option// He informed the doctor gently. 

After a few more moments of resistance, Ratchet seemed to lose the will to battle against the inevitable. With a hefty groan, o longer possessing the will to fight, he simply braced himself against the wall and allowed Soundwave to finish. 

Turning off the sprays when the job was complete, he gently ushered the doctor to the drying area. The fans activated instantly and had them completely dry within moments. Once done, Soundwave escorted Ratchet back out into the main area and over to the painting bay. He transferred his control of the Medic over to the work drones, warning them to treat him well. With the veiled threat ringing in their audios, the troops handled the sedated mech with delicate respect, diligently priming and spraying his bodywork with utmost care and attention. Ratchet, who seemingly had resigned himself to his fate for the time being, allowed them to manoeuvre him as needed to complete their task. When they were finished, the medic looked like he’d just come off an assembly line. 

“Does everything meet with your approval, sir?” One of the drones asked. The team of maintenance bots looked up expectantly at the spy, waiting for his verdict. In Soundwave’s opinion, they couldn’t have done more outstanding work. The detailing was perfect and precise. The white gleamed brightly, lines crisp and clean, while the dark red was rich and vivid. Every scratch was long gone, every dent banished from the newly polished mech, his armour shining with a glorious sheen. Looking over the mech in front of him, the spy had to admit the doctor was indeed… very attractive. He would indeed make a fine consort for any bot. Megatron really couldn’t have begged for a better carrier.

//Your work: Excellent// Soundwave said, giving the bots a gracious nod of congratulations. The assembled drones seemed to buzz with happiness. Soundwave didn’t give out praise often, but when he did it was something to be cherished. The spy knew that even that simple word of acknowledgement would do wonders for their now skyrocketing morale.

With that, Soundwave took his leave of them. He dismissed two of the security team, confident he and the remaining two could handle the doctor should he decide to act out. Gently grasping Ratchet by the arm he proceeded to escort him the short distance and turbolift ride to the holding room, quarters the spy had the troops prepare to house the medic during his stay. He ordered the two remaining security bots to remain outside as he stepped though the threshold with the prisoner.

It was modestly sized, sparsely furnished room but comfortable enough. There was no sense in treating a carrying mech harshly. A soft foam berth with warm cover sheets, a small table with various data pads containing a few books of their people. Also the standard view screen with selected access to a hundred or so human television channels. The comm. Officer thought it would be prudent to give the mech at least something to read and watch while he was in his imprisonment.

Sitting the still woozy doctor down on the berth, Soundwave went over to the table where a large container of freshly processed Energon sat, glowing bright pink and shimmering invitingly. It was nothing fancy, only lightly flavoured, a simple medium grade that was suitable for standard refuelling. He silently poured some into a waiting cube, before returning to the Autobot. 

//Autobot: Refuel// the spy said, presenting the cube to his charge.  
“No. I don’t want your charity.” Ratchet hissed sourly, sounding a little more coherent as he pushed the Decepticon’s hand away.  
//Not charity: Requirement: Autobot requires fuel// Soundwave responded.   
“I don’t want it.” The medic said quietly, turning his head.  
//Autobot Ratchet: Will Refuel: Must refuel// The spy coaxed, reaching out to take a firm hold of the medics chin and gently coaxing him to look back as he brought the cube to the doctor’s mouth. Once the first drops slipped past his lips, the Autobot’s instincts to refuel took over his conscious mind. Ratchet practically snatched the cube out of the spy’s servos. 

Soundwave kept the Energon coming as the doctor chugged down the rest of the first cube, then the second and a third. Ratchet surprised him when the fourth also disappeared. He was obviously hungry. He knew the Autobots were limited in their ability to gather Energon and with the Decepticons hording nearly all of the planet’s supplies, he summarized the Autobots were rationed to point of near starvation. 

Logic would also dictate that their warriors were getting the majority of their supplies to keep them fighting, replace their ammunition and repair their battle wounds. It would mean the not as active members of the team would receive far less, even forcing some to work practically on fumes. That would account for almost all of Knock-Out’s observations on the medic’s poorly maintained systems. His tanks churned a little- the thought of a brilliant mech like Ratchet, once regarded as Cybertron’s finest doctor and carrier of three sparklings- being reduced to surviving on barely enough Energon to keep his systems ticking over, was spark-breaking. Not for the first time… Soundwave realised just how much he hated this pit forsaken war.

With his systems now starting the complicated business of processing the influx of clean, fresh fuel, Ratchets optics begun to flutter as he tried to stave off a much needed recharge cycle. The empty cube slipped from his hand and bounced lightly on the floor as he swayed groggily in his place. He fought to stay as alert as his sedated mind would let him but was failing miserably.

//Autobot Ratchet: Need to recharge.// Soundwave said gently.  
“M’not tired.” The doctor mumbled with a slur.  
//Ratchet: Recharge.// The Decepticon ordered, firmly pushing the medic back onto the berth and gently guiding the tired mech into a comfortable position. The combination of sedatives and a decent meal were clearly having a relaxing effect on him. After seeing that the doctor’s pedes were up onto the mattress, Soundwave was a little unnerved to find the drowsy mech watching him with a strange look. He stilled under that unsettling gaze, looking back into his optics from behind the safety of his face guard.

“What do you want Soundwave?” Ratchet asked softly. “You drug me up to the optics, fix me, clean me, re-detail me, fuel me, get me into a warm berth… for what? You think I’m grateful for the service? You think by doing this, I’ll let you take what you want from my CPU without a fight?” The doctor’s optics narrowed. “Are you planning to have your own fun with me as well? Before your sick fragger of a master get his claws on me? I’m sure you’d be careful not to leave any marks…” He spat gruffly. A cold feeling swept through Soundwave’s circuits. The thought of infiltrating a mechs mind, stripping it of information and then interfacing by force was not his idea of a good time. It made his plating crawl and his spark sink to know that’s what the doctor was thinking of him at this moment. 

//Soundwave: not violate: Autobot Ratchet: In any way// He said softly.  
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”   
//Must believe: Ratchet: Will not be touched.//  
“You mean not yet.” The spy’s head lowered, never before feeling so rotten in his long retched life.   
//Not touched: Not by me: would never do that// He murmured quietly.   
“My, how comforting. Thank Primus for small miracles.” Ratchet snorted bitterly, unable to fight the recharge calling his systems any longer. He slipped into a peaceful recharge cycle. The spy took a moment to made sure he was comfortable then left the mech in peace.

Soundwave dismissed the remaining security bots, opting to diligently stand guard over the Autobot himself. He would not allow anyone to attempt to abuse him, at least… no one he could stop. Megatron’s tender affections were going to be more than enough abuse for any bot. Soundwave knew all too well what his master liked to do in the berth; how much he likes to make a mech scream. A small shudder went through his frame at the memory. How many had he heard in the past? Each time their cries struck deep into his spark and burnt themselves into his memory banks. 

The slender mech stood, silent and still as a statue, as his processor wandered. He pondered on what the Autobot was going to be put through, his Lord’s plan and what the ultimate consequences of the deed Megatron was undertaking would be. Hundreds of different scenarios played out in his mind, some ending favourably for their clan, others… not so much. He had no doubt that when Optimus Prime found out about his consort’s imprisonment and… his evening spent unwillingly with his master, the sludge would hit the industrial fans. He dreaded to think what the Prime was going to do if the two managed to spark. Every single outcome he conceived of… spelt trouble. Soundwave stood there for hours… just thinking… 

Some time later, Knock-Out came by with a few items the spy had requested. He’d learnt a lesson from the day’s earlier events and was now suitably prepared. Silently the pair slipped into the room and before the Autobot medic’s sensors could alert him of their presence Soundwave bound his wrists in stasis cuffs, while the red mech administrated a very mild sedative. 

Knock-Out assured him it was only enough to keep his processor from completely booting up until they got him to Megatron’s quarters. It was a precaution Soundwave was more than willing to take, knowing that now being fully repaired and with a full tank of fuel, the doctor would probably be more of a handful than before. Despite his… dislike for this plan in general, he didn’t want all his hard work of getting the doctor cleaned up to be ruined in a scuffle, Soundwave put it down to the perfectionist in him. It would be a shame to have it ruined so quickly from him struggling against drone troops. Even the vain Decepticon medic commented favourably on the Autobot’s outstanding new paintjob. 

Between the two of them, they hauled the slowly booting Ratchet to their Master’s quarters; accessing the room quickly and chaining him to the foot of the berth as per their orders. Soundwave guessed it had something to do with Megatron’s need to have power over everything… even a berth partner. They just managed to get the cuffs chained to the anchor point as the drowsy mech’s systems finally booted up completely. 

Ratchets optics flickered to a brilliant blue, the doctor truly saw his surroundings for the first time since coming onboard. It took the Autobot only a moment to figure out exactly where he was. When he did, the rage and indignation on the medic’s face was nothing compared to the curses he threw at the two mechs. Damning them both to all eighteen levels of the pit and everywhere else in-between, calling them every foul name they had ever heard and they also guessed a few chosen human phrases he’d picked up for good measure. The pair left the medic to his ranting, retreating to the main sitting room.

“Well… he’s sertenly back to normal.” Knock-Out said uneasily, folding his arms. They could still clearly hear Ratchet yelling at them and the rattling of the thick Durillium chain as the Autobot yanked at it. The red car looked back at the closed doors, frowning slightly. “You sure Megatron doesn’t want me to… you know… calm him down a bit?”   
//Negative: Megatron request: Autobot: unimpaired: completely lucid//  
“Like’s ‘em feisty, huh?” the red mech chuckled. “He’s gonna have his servos full with this one.” Soundwave didn’t care to inform the Medic just how feisty and loud their Lord liked his berth-mates.

They exited the warlord’s quarters, the Decepticon medic strolling away after a brief farewell, no doubt he was returning to his medbay. Meanwhile Soundwave contacted his master, informing him that Ratchet was awaiting him and wincing slightly at Megatron’s perversely gleeful response. Moments later, the large form of the Warlord emerged from the terbolift. After a brief talk, his Lord dismissed him and Soundwave returned to his own quarters. 

The spy sat down at his private workstation and accessed the computer, activating the cameras to start recording with the surveillance equipment that he personally had installed. He made sure that only he knew of their locations and doubly sure only he had access to their images. He didn’t want them getting out into general circulation. Even if the entire crew would soon know exactly why the Autobot was here, he didn’t want the doctor to be ridiculed or become a subject of… entertainment for the troops. He paged a security team, informing them to remain on standby, just in case. He always liked to prepare for the unexpected. 

The spy watched and listened as his master accessed his personal files and filled his room with music, a soothing melody that seemed wholly unfitting for the situation. Soundwave almost laughed out loud when Ratchet spat in the ex-gladiators face- the doctor had ball bearings of Durillium. Soundwave allowed himself to give the doctor a private congratulatory round of applause as not even Starscream would try something like that. And the face that Megatron pulled… he was going to use that as his own internal screen saver for a while. It was a deceptively light moment, the mood changed drastically as the Decepticon leader picked up the doctor and dropped him onto his large berth. Soundwave’s mood sobered up instantly. He gritted his denta and settled in for the long haul.

He sat and watched his leader forcibly mate and then bond with the Autobot. The less he thought about it the better. That first bout had been incredibly… difficult to watch even for the hardened soldier and Ex-gladiator that he was. The medic’s whimpered pleas to stop and his desperate struggling causing the spy’s spark to pulse uncomfortably in his chest. At points he had to look away; he couldn’t bear to see the tormented image of Ratchet’s face as Megatron took his pleasure from him. The comm. officer knew very well that there were mechs that would kill to see a spectacle like this, but he wasn’t one of them. The only way that Soundwave could describe the scene was depraved to the extreme. 

But he diligently continued to monitor the pair. He was actually curious as to his master’s… handling of the Autobot; his gentleness during the whole thing was unusual and extremely out of character for the warlord. But then again he knew this wasn’t like his other berth mates, this one did require different, gentle treatment. Soundwave had hoped that his master would have found someone in his own ranks to perform this duty, someone at least somewhat willing to do so, someone who would have wanted this. Fate apparently had other ideas and a sick sense of humour to go with it.

His CPU nearly fried itself when Ratchet somehow managed to pull free of the anchor, breaking the cuffs and jumped at the large Decepticon. Soundwave was just about to hit the alarm to call in the reinforcements, but froze still when the Autobot kissed Megatron. That was… unexpected. Megatron regained control by grabbing the medic’s throat, Soundwave contacted his superior. He was a little annoyed to be put on hold but more astonished than ever when he heard the doctor emitting a mating call over the speakers.

He sat there in a state of complete shock, the mood changing dramatically as the two mechs begun a spectacular display of courtship. The gentle, sensual touches and the beautiful sounds they made were captivating. Ratchet’s melodic, inviting trills and clicks, Megatrons deep, clacking rumbles. Now, he was ashamed to admit it, but this was the kind of thing that made Soundwave’s circuits tingle. A pleasant but guilty shiver ran through his frame. The spy jerked in surprise when Megatron clawed the Autobot in the back. He watched as Ratchet seemed to melt under the warlord’s painful grasp and admit a series of delightfully sexy clicks. Whatever had gotten into the medic, Soundwave could only guess.

Soundwave pinged his master again, reminding him he was still on hold and asked again if he needed any assistance. Judging where this was going he very much doubted it, especially when he watched Ratchet slink forward to sit in Megatrons lap. The doctor began nibbling at his Lord’s neck and shoulder and the Decepticon leader couldn’t get him off the line fast enough.

The spy sat back and continued to watch closely as they begun to interface again. The second time was quicker but much more… cooperative. Ratchet rode his master with the expertise of a whore-bot. Every move was gracefully sensual, the sounds of their mating mixing with the soft music that still played forgotten in the background. As their rhythm increased it wasn’t long before they both achieved their second climax of the evening.

Soundwave could only watch in astonishment as Ratchet seized his master in a fierce passionate embrace, kissing him soundly with skilled lips and glossa. His Lord’s servos roamed possessively over white and red heated metal, continuing for what seemed like an eternity. Neither seeming to tire of the other’s taste or touch. The spy thought he’d seen everything they had to give…. He was incredibly wrong. 

After Ratchet pulled him back down and Megatron somehow managed to convince the Autobot to pander to his ego, their third coupling turned into something bots used to pay good credits to witness in the seedy pleasure houses of Kaon. This time they mated with enough lust, vigour and blinding energy to make those old pleasure bots of the Old Decepticon capital blush, and that was no minor feat. He heard them pant, swear and cry out as their bodies surged with loosed energy. The warlord took his new bond-mate so roughly that it made the spy’s own plating ache in sympathy. Soundwave winced, hearing the violent screech of metal against metal, the groan of armour under pressure and the creak of strained joints as they pounded and writhed together. 

The strangest thing though was Ratchet’s behaviour- the mech was… begging Megatron for more. He now seemed to revel in the harsh punishment the Decepticon was dishing out on him, calling out Megatron’s name with such unbound desire and the second merge…was initiated by Ratchet himself… offered so freely… almost desperately. A gracious offer Megatron greedily took. 

Their final overload was a cacophony of bliss. The spy was strangely captivated by what he saw, watching his leader claw at his berth mate with such ferocity. The gunmetal mech tore ferociously at snow-white plating, causing trickles of shimmering blue Energon to leak over his claws and onto the berth. The Autobot cried out in pleasure as he jerked and ground against the silver mech, gripping him so tightly he heard his master’s armour creak. Transfluid and lubricants glistened as they leaked between them, smearing across their armour. The rawness of the emotion displayed in the scene hovered palpably, like immutable bubble that locked out the world. 

Megatron collapsed onto Ratchet with an almighty crash, the two panting heavily as their fans roared. The large mech soon rolled off his captive and Soundwave shook his helm in further disbelief as the medic curled up next to the Decepticon’s side. The spy guessed the pair were now at last completely sated as he was contacted by his master. 

//Soundwave// came the immensely tired voice of Megatron. Soundwave really wasn’t surprised after all that activity he just witnessed who wouldn’t be shattered.  
//Soundwave: standing by: remove Autobot: Lord Megatron?// He asked.  
//Change of plans, I’m going to keep the Autobot here.// That alarmed the spy; that wasn’t in the plan. It sent a surge of uneasy feelings through his circuits.  
//Decision: Risky// Soundwave stated firmly.  
//I am aware of the risk// Came the exhausted reply. //But I don’t think he is going to be a problem anymore. Though I would ask that you to monitor him while we sleep. If it does look like he’s going to try and kill me while I recharge, come in and cart him off to the holding room.// Megatron was clearly not interested in discussing the point further. The decision didn’t sit well with Soundwave though. His primary concern was his lord’s safety, but he would do as commanded. No one could argue with Megatron when he made up his mind.

//By your command: Lord Megatron// Soundwave replied, though rather stiffly  
//Thank you Soundwave.// With that, the Decepticon leader cut the connection, Soundwave saw his master curl an arm, almost protectively, around his resting captive before falling into his own sound recharge. He watched the pair for a few moments, after all the noise and energy... they now seemed so peaceful… strangely… suited.

All what had transpired, everything he’d seen, he’d recorded and sealed in heavily encrypted files. No one would be able to open them save himself. He could only image, what would happen if they got out… if Optimus Prime ever saw them. Which was a mute point, Soundwave knew he eventually would. Megatron was too… underhanded, as not to use this material against the Autobot leader, to tease or torment the poor Mech. Soundwave was dreading the fallout when Megatron decided to use this footage.

He sat quietly and thought back on the day’s events, steadily watching the now recharging pair. Taking note on how the medic now affectionately clung to his leader. Or how the Decepticon’s servos unconsciously stroked the medic’s neck while as he rested. Soundwave poured himself a cube of heated Energon, the liquid energy glowed brightly, the light reflecting off his dark armour. An odd, sickly yellow colour, his favourite blend from the ship’s refinery that was sweet, yet tangy on the glossa.

The spy thought he deserved it after the day he’d just had. The Autobot’s behaviour was a concerning development, a bizarre and sudden shift. He was going to have to ponder on this situation and plan a strategy for every inevitable outcome. Soundwave settled himself back into his chair, picking up his cube. It was going to be a long night and this whole messy business was only going to get worse. He’d bet his last high grade Energon ration on it.


	5. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the morning after the night before....

Megatron awoke from recharge slowly, each program and system coming leisurely to full function. His engines rumbled in contentment at the delightfully rested feeling that settled in his circuits. His optics flickered on, a deep red glow spilling forth as they un-shuttered. Megatron hadn’t woken up feeling this good in quite some time. The Decepticons brows drew together as he felt something shift beside him. Looking down he was greeted with the sight of Ratchet tucked close to his side, still peacefully in recharge, his servos loosely resting on his own.

Memories from the night before suddenly washed through his mind, sending residual energy tingling through his system at the mere thought. Ratchet murmured lightly, closing his servo gently around the warlords clawed hand and Megatron felt a wash of complete peace that wasn’t his own roll over him. A soft sigh escaped from the bot beside him. Megatron laid there silently… mesmerized by the sight and feel of the warm frame laying with him.

Time eluded him as he gazed down, noting little twitches of his servos, the gentle rise and fall of Ratchets armour as intakes worked smoothly, a steady flow of feeling over their new bond. It could only be described as… blissful. Megatron was having trouble believing what he was reading from the mech; there was no trace of fear or apprehension… but that could be because the mech was still sound asleep. That would probably change when he woke up. The warlord let out a hefty blast form his intakes and decided it was time for him to rise- there were things that needed to be done.

Megatron skilfully extracted himself from the Autobot’s grasp, slipping his servos out of the doctor’s and cautiously shifting away, not wanting the medic to wake up just yet. Luck seemed to be on his side as Ratchet only grumbled quietly and settled back down moments later. Megatron breathed a sigh of relief as he silently sat up.

The Decepticon perched on the edge of the berth, rubbing at his neck cabling to ease the slight stiffness there. His gaze travelled back to his new resting bondmate, his optics roamed freely over the white and red plates. Megatron took note of the damaged he’d caused the previous night, large scratches and a slowly dripping cut on the doctor’s thigh. It was nothing more then a tiny leak now, the doctor’s auto repair nanites had sealed most of the damaged caused to the plating, but the jagged wound sill oozed slightly. Dried Energon laced the stains on Ratchet’s white armoured thighs and the berth beneath.

Looking down at himself, Megatron wasn’t much better off. He saw similar marks spread across his own plating, the remnants from their night of unexpected passion. Ratchet’s lubricants and his own transfluid mingled with spilt Energon that coated his silver armour. It had dried into an uncomfortable tacky mess overnight, one he was looking forward to removing. The gladiator was even amused to see the numerous scrapes of transferred white and red paint that now marked his armour, and the few but significant scratches and dents on his arms and shoulders. He was in an extremely undignified state.

Confident the doctor wasn’t going anywhere, he would let the mech sleep while he sorted himself out. Megatron quietly stood and exited the berth-room, the door hissing shut softly behind him as he stretched, joints creaking. He crossed the main room and strode into his personal wash racks. Like the rest of the quarters, his racks were the most luxurious on the ship. It consisted of a large shower unit that could comfortably fit four mechs his size, as well as a separate and very large submergence pool for bathing. There was a large communal pool in the maintenance bay which the Vehicons and Eradicons used, he was no stranger to shearing a bath, but there was nothing like having the peace and quiet of your own pool, to wallow in to your spark’s content when the day had been rough.

Megatron turned on the shower and begun cleaning himself in the hot chemical streams, removing the transferred paint and marks while tentatively probing the new bond between him and the resting mech. He could feel a clear sense of ease and contentment that still came from Ratchet and wondered how drastically that would change when woke him. The ex-gladiator only now began to contemplate the all too real consequences of his actions. What it was going to be like living with this bond for the duration of the carrying period and how was it going affect him? What would it take to break it without damaging himself? Could that even be done?

But it was something he was going have to get used to very quickly. It was the oddest and most unsettling sensation Megatron had ever felt, being constantly aware of another being’s consciousness. Always there. Never ceasing. A strange presence in his spark and thoughts. The awareness alone was enough to drive a bot crazy. Thankfully the bond between them wasn’t strong enough for them to register clear thoughts, only some sense of feelings and emotions. But having those sensations that were not his own was going to be distracting. How did bonded couples stand it? The constant, unyielding flow of emotions was disorientating enough when the other partner was asleep, how did bots stand to have another’s thoughts in their minds? No privacy? Ever?

Megatron wanted to keep their link just as it was. As weak as it could be. The first merge and subsequent bonding were a calculated risk, the only way to achieve his ultimate goal. The second merge had been unplanned, a risky spur of the moment thing. A stronger, deeper bond would only come with many further merges. He didn’t want to risk giving the doctor a free pass into his mind; free to roam when and where ever he chose. It had been unnerving enough when that annoying yellow scout had managed to sneak his way in. He wasn’t about to let someone with as much intelligence as Ratchet free access to his thoughts. 

Once dry, Megatron left the rack and went to his personal computer to check his messages. There was nothing, save a few daily reports from some of the ship’s departments. ‘Good,’ he thought; there were far more pressing matters for him to attend to this cycle and he’d rather not have any distractions. He began scanning an engineering report as he opened his comm. link.

//Megatron to Soundwave.//   
//Fair morning: Lord Megatron: Soundwave: Standing by.// Came the speedy reply.  
//I gather there was no trouble last night?//   
//Autobot Ratchet: Slept soundly: No attempted assassination.// the spy confirmed.  
//Good to hear.// the war lord smiled to himself. //Anything else to report?//  
//Negative: nothing of consequence//

//Excellent. Make arrangements with Knock-Out. I want to see if we were successful as soon as possible.// Megatron ordered, switching to another report about the ships weapons systems and their need for an upgrade.  
//At once: shall arrive to escort: also bring appropriate restraints.//   
//Do you really think that is necessary?// the large mech asked, the idea didn’t sit well in his spark.

//Autobot Ratchet: difficult to control.// Came the steady reply. The ex-gladiator sighed; it was probably best to walk on the safe side of caution.  
//Very well, I’ll await your arrival.// He cut off the connection and turned off his computer.

Megatron walked back into the berth room, the scent of last night still so thick in the air. The doors opened and the dense smell hit him like a wall as he entered, a shiver running though his body and a toothy shark grin gracing his face. What a night it had been, an unexpected delight in this never ending war. Sadly, now was not the time to reminiscence on such pleasant thoughts; Soundwave would be here soon. It wouldn’t do parade the Autobot around the ship with the remnants of his… attentions still visible. It would be indecent and undignified; he wasn’t a monster after all. Still weary of what the medic’s reaction was going to be, he readied himself for a possible fight. He lent over and ran the backs of his servos over the doctor’s face and neck. 

“Wake up my pet.” Megatron said, surprising himself at how softly he spoke. The warlord’s insistent touch on the sensitive metal of his neck begun to rouse the doctor from his slumber. Ratchet murmured as he slowly rebooted, optic shutters fluttering as they focused and looked up to find the owner of the voice. Megatron felt a wave of confusion and disorientation and steeled himself, struts tensing, ready for an outburst or an attack. He was taken back when the medic only smiled sleepily up at him, stretched leisurely and slowly sat up. Megatron stilled, coiled and ready for a sneaky strike, watched with sharp optics as the doctor ran his hands up the Decepticons freshly cleaned armour, came in close and covered his lips in a deep, lingering kiss. 

Intense feelings of desire flowed from the mech before him, it hummed though Megatron’s frame. So overwhelming were the transmitted emotions running rampant through his body, they caused him to completely forget all his earlier concerns of attack and take hold of his new bond mate. The Warlord’s engines rumbled as he shuttered his optics and wound his strong arms around the medic, pulling the mech tightly against him. Ratchet moaned in approval as Megatron’s glossa invading the Autobot’s mouth hungrily, accepting the attention greedily. It was quite a while before the ex-gladiator reluctantly released his captives lip plates for air.

“Good morning.” Ratchet purred, his still purple tinted optics shone brightly under half shuttered lids.   
“A good morning indeed,” Megatron grinned, caressing the medic’s back. “And just how are you feeling?” he asked curiously.  
“Wonderful,” the doctor whispered against the Decepticon’s lips. “Come back to the berth and I’ll show you.”   
The medic’s tone was laced with promise and made the large mech shiver, his smile broadening.

“As pleasant as that sounds… I’m afraid, we cannot,” Megatron sighed heavily.  
“Why?” The doctor pouted grumpily. The Decepticon hooked a finger under the mechs chin and tilted it up.  
“I need to take you to see our doctor and make sure you are alright.”  
“I’m fine, you weren’t that rough,” Ratchet grinned slyly, a teasing tone in his voice, “I’ve had rougher.”  
. The warlord blinked back in surprise; the mech was still completely unafraid of him. The playfulness that seeped over to him was infectious and made the tyrant match the Autobot’s grin with equal vigour.

“Oh really? Do I hear a challenge?” He growled. Ratchets laughter was bright and airy as he tugged on his armour, trying to get him to lie back down. Megatron’s frame began heating at the thought of another satisfyingly rough round with the feisty Autobot but shook his head ruefully. Unfortunately, they had other things to do just then.   
“Later, my pet, we have an appointment at med bay. You need to clean yourself up,” he rumbled, moving out from the doctor’s grasp before he couldn’t bring himself to resist him any longer.  
“Yes sir.” Ratchet sighed with a mock salute. 

Megatron showed the medic to the racks. Leaving him to it, he waited in the main room for his communications officer to arrive. He closed his optics, lent against the desk and listened to the running liquid, letting himself feel the medic’s utter joy at standing in the warm cleaning fluid. Megatron had to admit that feeling positive, delightful emotions like this was quite intoxicating. You could so easily lose yourself in them if you weren’t careful. Speaking of which… was that bleeping the door? The warlord was brought out of his daze as the chime of his quarters rang again.

“Enter!” he called, knowing full well who it’d be. Seconds later the spy stepped into the room.  
“Ah, Soundwave,” The Decepticon lord greeted the new arrival with a grin. “Has everything been arranged?”   
//Knock-Out and Breakdown: Await your arrival//  
“Good.”  
//Soundwave: brought stasis cuffs: Autobot location?//  
The slender mech said holding up the restraints. Again, that unpleasant sensation hit the pit of his tanks at the thought of placing Ratchet in the restraints for any other reason then interfacing.

“He’s in the racks, but I really don’t think those will be necessary after all Soundwave.” He smiled devilishly as the sound of running fluid stopped and the dryer switched on.  
//Lord Megatron: Autobot behaviour...// the spy seemed to contemplate his words carefully, //Unpredictable.//  
At that moment the doctor chose to emerge from the steamy room, completely free from fluid residue and scuff marks, but the large gashes and deep scratches in his paint work remained starkly visible for any and all to see.

“Ah Ratchet, Soundwave here seemed to think I should cuff you?”  
“Sounds like fun to me.” the doctor smiled slyly. Megatron couldn’t help but chuckle at the playfulness.  
“I believe he means while we take our trip to the med bay. My Comm officer seems to think you are… unpredictable.” he said, using the spy’s own words.  
“He’d be correct. Of course I’m unpredictable; it’s part of my charm.” The doctor huffed as he moved closer to the larger mech, seemingly unbothered by the spy’s presence. .   
“But you aren’t going to be any trouble for me, are you my pet?” Megatron purred, reaching out, stroking the medic’s neck.

“I don’t know,” Ratchet sighed dramatically. “Exactly what would I get out of it, if decided to be good?” Megatron hooked his talon under the detailed chin and roughly forced the medic look at him.  
“Behave yourself and you’ll find out.” he rumbled deeply. Megatron felt the brilliant flare of arousal from the Autobot. The medic’s engines revved loudly as Megatron pulled him in close by the waist and claiming his lips. They quickly lost themselves in the moment, duelling with each other’s mouths, servos roaming until their guest reminded them of his presence.

//Lord Megatron// Soundwave called softly. The two mechs, stopped and looked back at the spy finding him standing mere feet from them. //Knock-Out: awaiting you.//  
“Yes, yes. I suppose your right...” Megatron sighed, releasing the doctor. “Come my pet, we can’t keep the good Doctor waiting.”  
“Primus forbid.” Ratchet snorted, making the large Deception smirk at his biting tone.

The journey to the medbay was blissfully uneventful; Megatron dismissed the guards the spy had brought with him, stating they were not needed. It appeared that the warlord was right as Ratchet was on his best behaviour, quietly following their lead in a massive contrast to the previous day’s unruly behaviour. Standing either side of the Autobot, the Decepticon Lord and his Comm officer lead the doctor through the ship’s winding hallways and up to Knock-Out’s domain. 

Soundwave used the turbolift ride to study the medic’s frame form the corner of his optic. Hidden behind his mask he could evaluate the damage he could see without Megatron knowing. Outwardly, the doctor seemed outstandingly calm; a small, relaxed smile shaping his mouth. His optics- a bright un-natural lilac- were intriguing, but it was the deep painful-looking slashes on Ratchet’s legs and hips that concerned him… They made him cringe inwardly in sympathy. They were ten times worse then how they appeared on the security feed. Despite them, the medic seemed unconcerned, almost… proud… of the damage his master had caused him. Soundwave decided that it was on his best interest to continue monitoring the mechs closely… he may have to step in if things became too rough for the doctor’s own good.

“Good morning, Lord Megatron,” came the smooth, cultured voice of the Decepticons medic as they entered the medbay. However, the crimson doctor’s cheerful mood seemed to evaporate the moment he saw that the Autobot was in no way restrained. Megatron could detect sheer panic crossing the red car’s handsome face?  
“Knock Out,” Megatron acknowledged with a nod. “I trust everything is ready for our guest’s examination?”

“Indeed, my lord,” He replied steadily as he hastily began sealing up the chemicals he’d been working on. “Everything… is quite ready.”   
Meanwhile, Breakdown moved slowly, desperately trying to not be obvious as he wheeled a squeaky trolley of equipment well out of the way while keeping his one good optic locked onto the smaller white mech. Megatron smirked in considerable amusement; he had been informed of the commotion Ratchet had caused on his last visit. The pair now seemed very wary of his pet, both watching the medic for any sudden movements. His little Autobot had clearly left quite an impression. The Decepticon leader chuckled as he turned to his bonded.

“Ratchet, if you would?” Megatron purred, indicating the medical berth. The other Decepticons watched in stunned silence as the Autobot medic did as he was told and hopped up onto the medical berth, lying down without fuss. An awkward moment passed before the red and white mech huffed and shot Knock-Out a disgruntled look.  
“Well? What are you standing around for? Are you going to examine me? Or does Megatron have you around just to make the med bay look pretty?” Ratchet scowled. “I don’t have all cycle you know!”

Knock-out and Breakdown were stunned. They looked to their master for some sort of explanation, but the large silver mech just continued to give them an amused completely unconcerned, smirk. The Decepticon CMO and his assistant shared a bewildered look before Knock-Out regained his composure, shifting into professional medic mode. It was best not to ask too many questions just yet. the doctor moved over to the occupied berth and ordered Breakdown to start gathering some equipment. Megatron and Soundwave moved off a little to let them work, speaking in low, secretive tones that were all but inaudible to the others in the room. 

The red sports car returned to the job at hand and performed a quick surface scan and visual inspection, still wary of a possible impending attack from his patient. Knock-Out didn’t need to ask what had happened to the Autobot. It had been clear what their Lord had wanted with the mech last night, and from the deep wounds on the Medic’s body, it had been rough evening for the older bot. Though strangely, the mech seemed, quite placid and unbothered by the injuries he sustained or his current predicament. Even when Knock-Out prodded into the open wounds the most he got out of the mech was a flinch and a ‘was that necessary’ glare.

“These wounds are superficial. A little patch welding and a few medical nanites should have the lines and metal fixed in no time,” Knock-Out declared as he indicated for Breakdown to start fixing the holes. “Then all that’s called for is a little touch up on his paint and he’ll be as good as new.”  
“The armour damage is not why we’re here,” Megatron said, folding his arms. “I want you to run a complete diagnostic check of his systems and a deep scan of Ratchet’s protoform, particularly the gestation chamber.” Knock-Out look up from the elder bot’s injuries, meeting Breakdown optic over the Autobots frame. The large blue mechs expression was puzzled as the medic cleared his intakes and turned to face his master.

“I’m sure that will not be necessary, my lord… after all he-”  
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, doctor,” Megatron said, cutting him off. “Just do as you are told.”  
“But sire, even if you had… enjoyed yourself last night. There is no cause for alarm, you see for sparking to-”  
“I am fully knowledgeable of our own reproduction Knock-Out.” The tyrant snapped in before he got a tedious and pointless lecture about their breeding habits. “Humour me and just perform the tests.”

Thinking it best not to argue with his master, Knock-Out did as he was asked and began performing the necessary scans. All the while, the Autobot medic remained quiet and still; a model patient. It baffled the red car why he was so remarkably comfortable with being in the same room as his long- time enemies, let alone with all of the poking and prodding that he’d been through. Knock-Out took deep scans of the mech’s protoform and as the readings came in he noted the numerous deep scars that marred the delicate internal mesh. He’d seen them before during his last examination of the medic. Ratchet was, after all, an old model, there were bound to be old scars received throughout his life and during the war. But these were old and deep, not from battle wounds… but more consistent with frequent reproduction… 

When the computer bleeped its completion of the preliminary test, he then began scanning Ratchet’s gestation chamber. A pointless exercise in his opinion, there was no way in the pit that they cou- all thought stopped as the computer trilled in alert. His delicate brow drew together as he brought up the scanners finding. He immediately crossed referenced with the protoform scans. His jaw nearly came off its hinges when the results came up. 

“This… this is impossible?!” Knock Out spluttered, not believing what his optics were telling him.  
“What have you found doctor?” Megatron asked, though he was sure that he already knew the answer. He found hope and anticipation rising not only from himself but also his newly acquired bond mate.  
“He… he’s… He’s sparked up!” The red mech squeaked in shock.  
“Wha?!” Breakdown’s head shot up from his work on Ratchets leg, he squinted at the readouts with his one good eye. It widened when he read the information for himself. “I don’t believe it!”  
“It’s… It’s right there!” Knock-out cried, waving a slender digit at the screen. “The sparklet forming in the chamber! The nanites have already begun encasing it in a protoform!”

“HOOAH!” Ratchet cried out joyously, making the Decepticon medical team jump back in surprise. They expected him to lash out at the news, but instead could only watch in complete stunned silence as Ratchet proceeded to start rubbing his chest gently and humming to himself, lost in his own happy little world.

“Excellent,” Megatron grinned, “Thank you for the confirmation doctor.”   
Needless to say the war lord was delighted with the news, even more so that the Autobot appeared completely thrilled at the prospect of carrying. If he were honest, it would have to have been a sheer miracle or divine intervention from Primus –or Unicron of that matter- if they hadn’t managed to conceive, especially after the mad rutting session they had engaged in last night. At the moment though, his medical team was still trying to get to grips with the news. The usually cool and collected Decepticon doctor was clearly flustered, having a hard time fathoming the situation.

“But-but this is impossible! The only way this could happen was if…” Knock-Out trailed off mid sentence and whirled round, his red optics full of shock as realisation finally hit him. The sight of Megatron’s smirking face was all the confirmation he needed. “If you had spark bonded with him last night while interfacing.” It was at this point Ratchet decided to rejoin the conversation.  
“Wow… it took you that long to put it together? Where on Cybertron did you get your medical degree? Did you actually study or did you just find it in a scrap yard?” Ratchet said dryly. Megatron chuckled at his berth-mate’s jibe, the faces his medical staff were making made for quite the picture.

“As you can see, our relationship has changed somewhat.” Megatron said smoothly. “Tell me doctor, what is the proper course of action now?” The red car stammered for a long moment… racking his processor and finely coming to only one conclusion. Figuring that his lord could only be referring to the most drastic and what he would presume fitting option. He cleared his intake to regain his composure.  
“Well my, lord… a termination is sti-” Knock-Out gave a pained yelp as he was struck in the back of the helm with an almighty clang. It was hard enough to knock him to his knees and make his optics lose their focus. All hell seemed to break loose behind him as Ratchet was off the medical berth and now wrestling with Breakdown.

“YOU SLAGGERS ARE NOT TOUCHING MY SPARKLING! GET OFF ME!!” Ratchet bellowed viciously as the large blue mech tried to restrain him without hurting him. Equipment was sent flying and crashing to the floor as the two struggled.   
“BREAK DOWN! Take your hands off him this instant!” Megatron roared. The ex wrecker instantly released the white mech. Ratchet emitted a very low, dangerous hiss; a warning not to come closer. He made Breakdown jump as he extended one of his gleaming, razor sharp, blades and covered his chest with the other servo protectively. The large blue mech put his hands up and backed off slowly. The Autobot continued to hiss and snarl at them as he moved as far away from the others as possible.

“It looks like… his carrying protocols have already activated. Spark preservation is the first to come online… And it would override the weapon lock we placed in him.” Knock-Out grunted out, still on the floor. As he pulled himself up to his feet, he gingerly touched the back of his painfully throbbing helm. Casting a glance down, he spotted the object that caused the now unsightly dent. He picked it up, glaring at the offending object.   
“Where the pit did he get a wrench from anyway?” he muttered.

Ignoring the other bots, Megatron moved over to the agitated mechs side, making a series of soothing, reassuring clicks and chirrs. Ratchet had backed into a corner so he could see everyone clearly. He was quite clearly not very happy. His armour clamped tightly around him, his stance ready for a fight. His lilac optics, bright with determination, darted between them all. His expression was an angry snarl as he continued to hiss at them like a leaky steam pipe. Megatron could feel the unbridled rage felt towards Knock-Out, But it was underlined with the most terrible, growing fear. Ratchet didn’t want to lose this sparkling. He wanted it. Desperately so, and he was going to protect it at any cost. Megatron couldn’t help the sense of pride that welled up within him. He had sertenly chosen his carrier well.

“Easy, my pet.” Megatron said smoothly, reaching out and giving a soothing caress to Ratchets plating, he could feel the mechs tension in his EM field. He had to calm down his bondmate before he did something irreparable to either himself or his staff. “No one here will harm you or our new spark, I promise you. The doctor was… uninformed of our desires…” He murmured gently. After a few tense moments, Ratchet begun to ease, shifting closer to the comforting presence of the Decepticon Leader. Even through the feeling of safety brought about by his bondmate, the older bot continued to glare daggers at the medical crew. Megatron rested a hand on Ratchets neck and stroked the cables, continuing to soothe his mate’s fowl mood as he turned back to his followers.

“We are keeping the sparkling Knock-Out,” Megatron informed the red sports car. The mech blinked a couple of times, processing the information. Breakdown looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or panic.  
“Are you… serious about this?” The slender medic asked.  
“Very.” Megatron answered. Breakdown shook his head in utter disbelief.  
“But he’s…”   
“My bonded and now the mech carrying my heir,” He replied firmly, glaring at the Ex-wrecker. “You both should bear that in mind. Now then, as I was asking, what steps do we need to take now to ensure our sparks healthy development?” It took the Knock-Out a moment to gather his wits after so much trouble and revelation, but it was a moment too late as the Autobot jumped in.

“It will need monitoring, checkups every cycle will be best since it has been a while since I last carried and I’m also not as young as I used to be; my systems aren’t running as smoothly as they should. I’ll need sufficient Energon supplies because manufacturing a Sparkling will require a lot of energy. I will also need to start taking ore and mineral supplements to boost my protoform replenishment as my nanites will start stripping me of raw materials.” Ratchet looked at Megatron up and down briefly with calculating optics. “Judging by the size of it’s sire… at least 2 cubes of enriched Energon per earth day, on top of anything else I consume.”   
Silence rang out in the med-bay and Megatron looked expectantly at his own doctor. The Decepticon medics jaw worked, he pursed his lip plating in mild annoyance. 

“Well… yes… what he just said,” Knock-Out huffed with a nod, folding his arms. Ratchet had been spot on with his treatment, it was exactly what the red car was going to suggest. “But if I may also add… during my scans I detected large traces of dark Energon in his systems. Due to its… unusual nature I think it best if Ratchet undergoes some further in- depth preliminary tests. Just to make sure it’s not harming the sparkling, of course.” Megatron nodded as he milled over the suggestion.

“You may run your tests tomorrow morning. For now, see that the appropriate Energon is prepared and available at all times. Breakdown, escort Ratchet back to our quarters. Do not worry, he promised me that he won’t be any trouble.”  
“I will be if he tries anything,” Ratchet growled, looking at Breakdown as if he was the most evil thing in the universe and about to attack him any moment.

“He won’t. You have my word,” Megatron said, gently stroking the doctor’s face before tilting it up to meet his gaze. “You’re here as my guest. He will not lay a servo on you… But if he dares… I’ll rip out his spark chamber for you.”  
Megatron let the doctor feel the conviction behind his declaration, sending over waves of reassurance. His words and transmitted feeling seemed to work, the doctors EM field finally began returning to normal, his blade retracted back into its casing.

“Now go with Breakdown and I will join you shortly, my pet. Just remember you are safe here.”   
Ratchet looked up at him, his bright optics still held some uncertainty. He looked back warily at the blue mech and seemed reluctant to leave the warlord’s side. Still sensing his unease, Megatron purred deeply, stroking the medic’s neck as he spoke. “Go now… and I promise I’ll see that your tolerance is… well rewarded,” he purred, sending a strong wave of lust over to the mech. Ratchet shivered and smiled; this final reassurance did the trick and made Ratchet’s mood return to its ‘normal’ state.

“Very well…” The Autobot said with a nod. With his claim restored, he left the warlord’s side and strode confidently towards the med-bay doors as if the incident never happened. Ratchet stopped just short and looked expectantly at Breakdown.   
“Well… what are you waiting for? Escort me then!”   
“Err,” The large blue mech looked at his lord and master, appearing at a loss for what to do.  
“You heard the doctor,” Megatron just grinned, “What are you waiting for?”

“Right, okay, ugh, yeah!” The large mech dithered for a moment longer before jogging over to the white medic’s side. The doors opened, Breakdown looked awkward for a moment, before gesturing out side. “Ugh… after you...” The doctor gave him a sly smirk and an amused chuckle before exiting, Breakdown following after. 

“My lord, what in the name of the Unmaker is going on!” Knock-Out cried, rounding on his master the moment his partner was out and the doors shut.  
“I will explain in due course doctor, but at this moment I wish to address the troops and inform them of this… happy occasion. Soundwave,” Megatron called to the silent mech. Knowing exactly what his master wanted, the spy stepped forward and out of the shadows. He accessed every single speaker and monitor on the ship and prepared to broadcast his lord’s address. Knock-out wondered just how the crew were going to react to the news… he wondered if he was ready to deal with a carrying Autobot… he wondered if any of them really were…


	6. Truth of The Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron wants to know the reason why Ratchet is so pleased to be here...

After having a talk with his physician and addressing his crew, Megatron walked back to his quarters. Everything seemed to be falling in place but there was still one thing that plagued him, something that both Knock-Out and Soundwave had brought up. As much as he was enjoying the Autobot’s sudden change in demeanour, it was… concerning. He’d had mechs and femmes defect from their original side and join him before, Breakdown being a prime example. Megatron had never really pried into his reasons for defecting, but he suspected it had something to do with his handsome red interrogator. The Ex-wrecker had become an invaluable and loyal asset to his cause so he never had a reason to question him about his choice.

But Ratchet… It just didn’t sit well with him. Why he would suddenly change his allegiance so readily after only a single interfacing session, albeit a processor blowing one if Megatron said so himself, Ratchet had always been so stubbornly loyal to the Prime. Ever since the first days of Orion’s training to become a true Prime, the doctor had been by his side, never wavering in his devotion. Even in the Autobot’s darkest days, he never lost faith. Had even become his leaders companion. So why now… what had changed?

Ratchet seemed to be functioning perfectly well, his processor didn’t seem to be glitched or damaged. His advice for treatment was precise and accurate, personality intact, if a little… embellished. For all intents and purposes he was himself, yet… he clearly wasn’t. Knock-Out said there was a lot of dark Energon running in his frame; could that account for the shift in personal allegiance? There were a lot of unanswered questions and no clear answers forthcoming. He puffed loudly as he entered his rooms, optics immediately falling onto a gleaming figure that was looking at a data-pad while he leant against the immense desk. The doctor looked up upon hearing his entry and… smiled. Sweetly.

“Ah… there you are. What kept you?” The mech asked in a sultry tone. He put the pad down and hopped gracefully up onto the edge of the desk, looking quite relaxed as he sat there. “I was getting lonely.”   
Megatron said nothing; he moved over to the medic, studying him intently. When he got close enough for the doctor to touch him, eager servos took hold of silver armour and pulled him in. Megatron let himself be lead and once again found himself between the Autobot’s legs, one of Ratchet’s elegantly curving knees at either side of his hips. Sensitive servos ghosted up to and around the tyrant’s neck and brought him down for a processor disabling kiss. It was deep, slow, and full of passion and promise. Everything a kiss was supposed to be.

This was all too good to be true, doubt still niggling in the back of his mind. Not allowing him to enjoy the wonderful moment. Megatron gave a hefty sigh, moving back and breaking the kiss.  
“What’s wrong?” Ratchet asked, concern knitting his brow, he could obviously feel his mate’s troubled emotions. The Decepticon gazed at him for a long moment, removing the medics talented hands from his neck, letting them rest on his chest before answering.

“Before we continue… I have a few questions for you, my pet, and I want straight answers.” Megatron said in a quiet, steady tone.  
“Oh? And what might they be?” Ratchet asked, his optics wide with curiosity, looking almost innocent.  
“Why? Why are you so pleased with this turn of events? Why is it you suddenly want this?” The tyrant asked, placing his large servo over the glass covered chest where the medic’s gestation chamber lay, then used the other to tilt his chin gently up. “And are you not concerned about what your dear Optimus will say?” 

Just for a moment, Ratchet’s face faltered. Megatron was acutely aware of the brief but clear sign of pain and was that… guilt? It shot through his spark before everything begun disappearing. The once strong emotions became dull. The doctor turned away from him, Megatron could barely feel the Autobot’s shifting feelings; he then realised… Ratchet was trying to block him out! The warlord growled menacingly; he was not going to allow that. Grabbing the medic’s face harshly, he forced Ratchet to look back at him. The Decepticon glared down into the suddenly wide, shocked optics. Undeterred, he pressed on with his interrogation. He was going to get an answer from the mech, one way or another.

“Tell me why!” Megatron demanded, pushing harshly through their link, so hard it made the medic wince from his intensity. Ratchet immediately stopped trying to block him out and lowered his barriers. The Autobot looked up at him with those un-natural lilac optics that suddenly seemed far too bright. His answer came in a steady but static filled voice, thick with emotion. So different was it from the older bot’s usual confident tone, it all softened the Decepticon’s anger somewhat as he spoke.  
“It’s… hard to explain…” Ratchet paused briefly, dropping his gaze. The doctor’s servos traced the ridge of Megatron’s silver chest plate then laid still, his lilac optics meeting the hard red gaze again.   
“Try and explain it to me.” He said bluntly. Ratchet sighed forlornly.  
“I…it’s… because I just… I just want you…” 

“You expect me to believe you would choose me over your precious Prime?” Megatron asked again, still not satisfied with the vague answer.  
“No,” Ratchet snorted gently, lowering one servo to delicately trace the rim of the Warlord’s pelvic plating. “But… it’s the truth. I’ve never… felt anything so profoundly… stimulating… then what I have with you.”   
“Oh?” Megatron’s curiosity peaked with that surprising statement. “Do tell more”.

“When I’m with you my frame feels like it’s on fire… the way you touch me… hold me… kiss me… it’s so possessive… and when you overload in me,” Megatron felt the mech shudder and the hot throbbing pulse of lust seep over from him. “Primus, you feel so good… you make me feel alive. It’s like everything else was a dream and being with you is the only real thing I’ve known. I don’t know what it is you do to me but… I want more. Primus help me, I want so much more of you… I can’t get enough… I just want you to frag me and never stop!” Megatron remained silent as Ratchet rested his forehelm against his chest.

“I know you want this sparkling, I can feel it from you. This is what you wanted from me all along.” Ratchet said quietly, shocking the war lord. “I’m happy to give it to you.”  
“Are you now?” Megatron asked suspiciously.  
“Yes, just… keep me by your side… and I’ll do anything you want… but just… frag me… rough, hard, fast, however you want, I don’t care… I’ll do anything you ask… I just need you so much… just keep fragging me…” he trailed off as he started to gently kiss the armour of the Warlord’s chest.

A slow realisation began dawning on Megatron’s face… The odd pieces of this puzzle began to slot to place and started making sense. It was became so clear to him, he felt like an idiot at not realising it sooner. It was so simple, so laughably obvious now that he thought of it. The doctor was enjoying the taste of dark Energon and was crying out for more, almost desperately so.

Megatron remembered the first time he’d experienced the raw power of the blood of Unicron, the rush had been euphoric. The thrill of such raw power and desire, it was just as Ratchet described; the purple Energon made everything else seem dull and incomplete. He hypothesized that every time they engaged in interfacing or merged sparks Ratchet, as humans said, got a hit. An unfathomable high that made him crave for more, and the last was never enough.

“Then what about Optimus?” Megatron asked again, he felt the stab of indescribable emotion before it was violently shoved away by the medic.  
“What about him?” he replied sharply, sounding surprisingly annoyed at the question.  
“You are his consort,” Megatron stated evenly, wishing to see the medic’s reaction, which was to give him a deathly cold scowl.  
“Not anymore,” Ratchet said firmly, “You saw to that when you claimed me as your own. Showed me what it was to properly get fragged… But… don’t talk about him anymore. He means nothing to me now… I’m yours… I want you…”

Though Megatron remained stony faced, inside he was brimming with dark glee, feeling the truth of the doctor’s words though his very spark. It was enough for him to settle his doubts for the moment.   
He’d won over the Prime’s own lover.   
He was giving Ratchet something the great Optimus Prime couldn’t. It was he who was now catering to the Autobot medic’s darkest desires. Ratchet was freely offering himself, giving everything to the Decepticon Lord in exchange for revelling in the power of the dark Energon that was flooding his system. It was an elating revelation. The medic was his by choice and the warmonger was going to take full advantage of him.

Megatron grabbed the doctor roughly by the throat, making him gasp. He growled, low and deep as thunder as he loomed over the smaller mech, letting out a complicated series of rumbling clicks. He ran his parted lip plates over the medic’s, a declaration of his dominance over the Autobot in his clutches. He felt dazed lust flow from the medic spark, he let it wash throughout his frame. Megatron’s engines roared as Ratchet’s answered him, affirming his claim with a purring trill, a display of complete and utter submission, It caused the tyrant’s very circuits to burn with lust as the doctor flicked his glossa out to tease the gladiator’s lips, inviting him to freely taste what he offered. 

Megatron claimed his mouth with a rough, possessive kiss, long glossa delving deeply to wrestle with the Autobot’s own. The white mech whimpered in his hold, melting under the heat of the Decepticon’s aggressive, commanding assault. The gladiator forcibly shoved the medic back, so he was almost lying on the desk. The doctor propped himself up on one hand as the other slid back around the gladiators neck. Ratchet moaned wantonly as he the larger mech rocked against him, their EM fields pulsing wildly, intertwining as their plating scraped together. Megatron roughly took hold of the Autobot’s legs, sharply wrenching them wide open. 

Ratchet shivered, his frame already burning hot and fans running loudly in anticipation. The Decepticon’s servos greedily ran over his partner’s armour and Megatron rumbled lowly as he dragged his talons slowly over the doctor’s closed panels. The medic gave a breathy groan and shuddered at the sensation, the touch sending delicious vibrations through the sensors around his valve. The protective covers couldn’t open fast enough, eager to have the Decepticon leader touch him further.

Megatron face split into a devilish smirk as he began to tease the slick entrance with the tip of his servo, just skirting around the opening with deliberate restraint and making the medic writhe and moan in frustration. The doctor’s dark gray servo clutching at his neck tightened.  
“Augh… Megatron… touch me more,” he begged unashamedly, Lilac optics shone with desperation, pleading with intensity “Please, my Lord!!”

Delight rippled through the Decepticon’s frame at the doctor’s husky voice, begging him to do anything that would relieve the ache. He decided to oblige his new bonded and a thick, curved claw roughly pushed its way into the already wet valve. Ratchet hissed in pure pleasure, arching into the silver mech as he was invaded. Megatron began to thrust harshly in and out of the opening and Ratchet bit his lip, shuttering his optics in utter delight and venting heavily as his body met every move with equal enthusiasm. The doctor’s hips rocked harshly against the servo inside him, simply desperate for more.

Megatron added another digit along with the first, his berthmate groaning obscenely as his valve was stretched further. The Decepticon began twisting his servo with every harsh entry, wildly stimulating the inner nodes and spilling lubricant with each withdrawal. He added a third and continued his assault until the white mech was a quivering, pleading mass of metal on top of his desk.

“You’re mine now,” Megatron rumbled throatily as he continued to twist inside his new mate, scraping at sensors deeper inside the dripping wet channel with deliberate slowness, “Say it.”  
“Yes,” Ratchet panted helplessly, his cooling fans roaring loudly as he leaned up to ghost his lips across the tyrants. “I’m all yours, my Lord.”  
Megatron grinned savagely, he was sure he’d never get tired of hearing things like that from his Autobot.

“Do you want more?” The Decepticon purred as he pulled out his now soaking servos. Ratchet keened at the loss and squirmed, frustrated and needy in the ex-gladiator’s grasp. Megatron brought his servos, dripping with thick, light blue lubricant, to the doctor’s lip plates. There was not even the slightest hint of hesitation as the medic began lapping at each digit, caressing each almost desperately with his skilled glossa. 

Megatron felt the hot throb of desire pulsing through him, pooling towards his already hard spike. The sight was one of pure debauchery and he loved it, savouring every moment that was etching itself in his databanks. The feel of Ratchet, who was now sucking on his servos was utterly enchanting. Megatron already knew how good he was at kissing… He remembered just how good the doctor’s mouth feel other places…

“I want you inside me… take me,” Ratchet growled suddenly. “I can’t stand it any longer… I need to feel you. Now!” He snapped, optics half shuttered full of frustration and smouldering desire. Megatron, unable to resist any longer, sharply pulled the Autobot down, just far enough so he could reach him easily while still having him splayed on the desk. The warlord positioned himself and with one mighty thrust, drove hard and deep into the willing mech beneath him. 

Ratchet yelped in delight; the sudden penetration and stretch around the Decepticon’s impressive, ridged girth burned in both pain and bliss. The doctor was tight and hot around him and the gladiator growled deeply, his engines revved noisily in wild arousal. Megatrons plating rattling against his partners, he buried his face into the doctor’s neck. Ratchet felt like paradise as Megatron guided sturdy white legs to wrap around his waist. 

“Oh yes…” Ratchet groaned into the other mech’s audio, grinding his hips down against the Decepticon to drive him as deeply as possible, it making his larger partner shudder in delight. The doctor’s ankles locked behind Megatron’s back, pulling him impossibly close. “Uuh… dear Primus… Frag me… hard.” Needing no further encouragement, Megatron placed his servos on the Autobot’s hips, grasping them in a vice-like death grip. The tyrant licked along the medic’s neck before starting up a ruthless pounding rhythm, slamming in hard and drawing out fast. The unusual angle caused him to strike and drag across the valves sensors in the most delicious of ways. 

Megatron bucked with such ferocity that the bolted down desk rattled, sending stacks of pads clattering to the floor with every movement. The wet, slick sound of sliding metal and the clang of colliding armour sounded in the air with Ratchet’s voice, entwined it was like a symphony to the Decepticons audios. The medic literally sang out with every one of the Decepticon’s thrusts as Megatron once again brutally laid his claim on the white mech. It wasn’t long before they were both burning from the inside out as their systems built to overload.

The intensity of their pleasure soon became too much for either to bear. The physical sensation combined with their raw emotions. The dark forbidden lust that flowed between their sparks soon had Ratchet shrieking his completion. Clawing at Megatron’s shoulder hard enough to make new deep scratches in the silver plating, the medic was thrown over the edge of bliss. The warlord was dragged over as soon as he felt his mate’s spark lurch in ecstasy. Ratchet’s valve tightened around his spike and Megatron snarled his release into the medic’s neck cables as his thick transfluid shot into the Medic, once more filling him with heat. The fearsome warlord growled weakly, feeling both drained and sated as he felt his own fluid drip out of the doctor’s abused valve, it trickle down his own thighs and onto the desk. Creating a marbled sticky mess over its serface.

They stayed locked together for many moments, simply bathing in the afterglow of their dark passion and venting hard, fans roaring loudly. Their EM fields charged as arcs of electricity jumped between their boiling plating. Megatron was lost in the heady peace that overload brought, magnified by the presence and contentment of his partner from within his spark. This moment was… perfect. Complete perfection. He’d never in his long years experienced such an intense pleasure with another being. He knew it was probably only due to the bond they now shared, but still… he couldn’t deny the utterly wonderful feeling that now coursed through his frame. 

Ratchet hummed happily against him, nuzzling the Decepticon cheek affectionately. Megatron rumbled back, running his lips over the doctor’s neck cables. He puffed hot air from his intakes over the sensitive metal, making the medic wriggle and laugh softly. The warlord ran his clawed servos possessively over the medic, savouring the feel of his hot frame. One large hand held the Autobot close while the other came to rest over the covered spark that pulsed in his chest.

“Mine. All mine now,” Megatron purred deeply, in low tone that made Ratchet shiver. The gladiator clawed over the spot above the gestation tank lay, scratching the paint work gently. “Both of you.”   
“Yes… we’re yours… completely,” Ratchet answered quietly into his audio, his spark once again humming with high- induced contentment. The Decepticon grinned lazily against his neck. He could now clearly see his plans succeeding- Optimus’s mate was going to willingly carry his sparkling and as long as he kept him entertained, he’d even play the part of dutiful mate as a bonus. He hadn’t felt this pleased in quite some time. His torment of the Prime hadn’t even yet begun… this was going to be… fun.


	7. Tidings of Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream finely finds out about Megatrons Plan.... and he's not happy...

//Attention my loyal followers.// 

The deep distinctive tone of the Decepticon Warlord rang through the ship. His image was broadcasted on every view-screen and all of the troops, Eradicons, Vehicons and Miners alike stopped their activities and gave their master their full attention. On the bridge, Starscream puffed heavily in annoyance. He looked up for a brief moment from the weapons maintenance report before returning to his perusal of the ridiculously dull datapad before him.

“What’s that fool up to now?” he muttered grumpily to himself, tapping another footnote in to the report to revisit at his leisure.

//As many of you are aware we have recently captured the Autobot’s medic, a renowned physician and member of the old senate, Ratchet.// 

Starscream had been away on a scouting mission during the mech’s capture, but had been informed upon his return that the Autobot had been brought on board. He had asked Megatron if he could have the privilege of interrogating the mech for information, but to his surprise his master denied him, informing the seeker that he had other plans for the medic. Megatron stated that he was not to be touched and that Soundwave was now overseeing the Autobot’s stay. 

Starscream had inquired further about his plans but had been told in no uncertain terms to frag off. The seeker had taken the not-so-subtle hint and backed off, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have other sources of information to call upon. The mech that Starscream would be consulting knew nearly as much about the goings on aboard the ship as Soundwave but, unlike some, always seemed to delight in assisting the second in command.

The Vehicon’s designation was ST-3V3, a dual purpose soldier and maintenance bot. He was nothing remarkable, just another drone worker form the Kaon pits. Like his brethren, ST-3V3 looked practically identical to any other drone, save for individual battle scrapes and marks that had accumulated over its life span. The thing that made the seeker take notice of this particular mech was his uncanny ability to know exactly what information the Air Commander wanted at any given time and how he managed to get whatever job Starscream assigned him done with little to no fuss. The drone seemed to relish every task the seeker besieged him with, no matter how mundane or demeaning and you couldn’t get much lower then re-categorising the store holds or scraping mucky organic matter from mining equipment.

Over the vorns Starscream had come to rely on this mech’s steady and reliable information. It was how he uncovered many things on the ship that his master tried very hard to keep from him. ST-3V3 was quite skilled in mechanics and could be found all over the ship; it was how he managed to hear so many interesting things during his work day. 

When the Seeker had sought him out and casually asked the drone about recent events, the mech more than happily informed him of all he’d overheard. Most important, to the SiC, was the information about how the Comm. officer and a small security team had taken the medic to the medbay for extensive repairs and then down to the maintenance bay for a full detailing. ST-3V3 had known that the preferential treatment was odd, and Starscream quickly agreed with the drone’s analysis. It was much later that day, after keeping his audio close to the ship scuttle bug, that ST-3V3 heard that Knock-Out and Soundwave had hauled the unconscious white mech into their Lord’s chambers. It took the Air Commander all of a klick to put two and two together and understand what exactly Megatron’s ‘other’ plans were. 

Well, the medic certainly wasn’t his cube of Energon; he was a tad too bulky for the Seeker’s refined tastes, but whatever floated his Master’s massive boat. If anything it was sure to put his lord in a more pleasant mood and that was always a bonus. The slender mech smirked, wings twitching in mirth. If the noises that were coming from his leader’s rooms last night were anything to go by, he wouldn’t be surprised if Megatron was about to announce the mech’s tragic, untimely offlining via interface. He’d just happened to overhear them as he was casually passing by. The air commander chuckled darkly to himself; the doctor certainly had a hefty vocal processor on him. The screams had been deafening, even through the dense material of the Nemesis’ walls.

//I bring to you all great news.// The sliver mech continued on screen. Starscream sighed with annoyance. ‘Here it comes,’ the air commander though, ‘the grandiose speech. I the great Megatron have offlined another Autobot! With my massive spike no less! I am a interfacing god! Look how magnificent I am! All hail Megatron! Whoop-de-do!’ Starscream snorted at his own humorous internal musings as his Master’s voice filled the air.   
//Our own medic, Knock-Out, has just confirmed for me that Ratchet… is now carrying my sparkling.//

You could have heard a nanite pass waste gas it became so quiet on the bridge. Starscream had to reset and replay the last thing he heard three times just to comprehend what had been said. Like everyone else on ship, the warlord had his full attention. The commander turned his slackjawed, stunned face to the massive screen and could only listen, staring wide opticed and gawking like a moron as Megatron carried on with his announcement.

//As of now Ratchet is my honoured guest.// Megatron said smoothly. //He is to be treated with the same respect you would show to me, welcome him into our humble family. If I find anyone dishonouring him or my unborn sparkling… the consequences will be… severe and permanent.// he growled lowly. No one needed any elaboration. They could all easily guess what the outcome would be if any bot dared to wrong the mech now.

//This is a great omen for us all. The birth of the first sparkling in so many gigacycles is a sign of prosperity for our clan. The child will be raised to hold our ideals, fight for our cause and serve you as your Leader should anything befall me. They will have my spark pulsing in their chest and will be my one true heir. With them to lead you, you shall never be without my guidance, for their word will be as my own. Rejoice my fellow Decepticons, my brothers. Today is a glorious day and it ushers in a bright new future for us all. Long live the Decepticons!// 

And with that the screens returned to their normal displays. It was silent save for the beeping of the station monitors and humm of the engines… but only for all of two micros.

“WHAT!” Starscream screeched his optics twitching with outrage. “HE-HE- HE CANNOT BE SERIOUS!” 

His yells of indignation fell on deaf audios; no one was paying attention to their second in command after that shocking announcement! All around him, chatter had broke out from the Vehicons and Eradicons gathering around the bridge and lower walkway.

“A sparkling!” one cried giddily, “A real live, little sparkling!”

“This really is a sign of fortune!” another was practically vibrating on the spot with glee, clapping his servos together like an over excited youngling. 

“Hay, how long exactly, does it take for a sparkling to grow inside of its carrier?” one asked another over his console.

“Does this mean Ratchet is a Decepticon now?” An aerial drone asked a grounder as he scratched his helm in puzzlement.  
“Well, obviously!” The four wheeler cried, folding his arms, “Can’t exactly be an Autobot and carry Megatron’s sparkling now can you! Bit of a conflict of interests there, wouldn’t you say.”  
“Oooooh, yeah,” The other nodded in sudden realisation, “Silly me.”

Starscream stared in wide optic fury as the troops buzzed around him with excitement at the prospect of a youngling being sparked on the ship. Theories were spawned like petro-bunnies about the Autobot’s sudden intimate relation with their master and how it came to be. There was even a few starting to place bets, the drones waging their high grade rations and duty shifts, whether the sparkling was going to be a mech or a femme. Standing amidst the joyous crowd, Starscream’s temper finally reached boiling point.

“SILENCE! ALL OF YOU!” The seeker cried viciously, his high pitch cutting through the din and making all the troops fall silent. “This- this… news, does not give you opportunity to neglect your duties! Back to work! Immediately! And in silence!” Like scolded younglings in a class they bowed their helms and silently returned to their work. But, just like excited younglings, it was mere minutes before Starscream heard the quiet whispered natter of voices creep up from the shadows. 

The SIC snapped at them again to remain silent, regaining his hold over the crew for all of five minutes. The third time he threatened that the next drone to speak would get a slap round the faceplate. But it seemed the so called good news had stirred something in the crew and they were far too excited to obey, regardless of threats. Even when said threat was carried out and left an Eradicon with large gouge marks across his mask plating they still persisted. 

Having had enough of the gossip and getting even more frustrated that no one was listen to him, the seeker huffed and stalked off of the bridge. The wings on his back were held tense and high in agitation, his elevated pedes stomping noisily along the catwalk as he left. He just wished he could have slammed the doors too. Instead they hissed closed almost mockingly behind him.

“WHY OF ALL THE RIDICULOUS, INSANE PLANS TO COME UP WITH!” he bellowed to the empty hallway, venting some of his rage and throwing his servos into the air in disbelief. “This is an unmitigated disaster! What in the name of the All Spark does that bucket head think he’s doing?!”

Actually, he could answer his own question quite easily. He knew precisely what the tyrant was thinking, that little line about the blasted brat being his one true heir! It was a personal dig at him! To spite him! He knew Megatron was doing this to safeguard his throne and put it further out of the seeker’s grasp. The drones were loyal to Megatron to a fault; if he told them to jump into a vat of molten lead they’d ask how they should dive. If Megatron told them that this… abomination…. was his chosen successor and no other, they would hold true to his words and Starscream would be forever denied his rightful place as leader. All just because it was his spark spawn!

Coming to a conclusion, he decided he needed confirmation on the whole sorry situation for himself. Turning primly on his heels, Starscream strutted his way down to the med-bay, his clever mind calculating and re-calculating various possibilities and outcomes. So far none of them were looking very favourable to him. 

When he reached his destination, he found Breakdown clearing up some upturned equipment and the handsome red car casually seated in a chair. Knock Out was reading a data pad while sipping a cube of hot Energon like nothing was remotely wrong in their little world. The casual scene infuriated Starscream even further and he stomped up to the mech, towering ominously over him he pushed the pad down sharply to gain the grounders undivided attention.

“Is it true!” he demanded of the medic. Knock-Out coolly gazed back, unflustered by his commander’s apparent anger. He really didn’t need to guess why it had risen this time, but there was no harm in having a little fun.  
“Well there are many true things in the universe, Starscream. What are you particularly referring to?” Knock-Out queried, feigning innocence.   
“You know perfectly well I’m talking about!” the seeker screeched, stomping his foot indignantly like a disgruntled sparkling, “This whole elaborated fabrication about Megatron sparking up the blasted Autobot!”

“I can assure you, it’s not a lie,” Knock-Out replied smoothly, putting down the pad and searching his large pile for the appropriate one. “I ran the test myself. Megatron and Ratchet are now bonded and are expecting a sparkling, Ah, here we are. Do you want to see the scans for yourself?” he asked, offering out the pad. The seeker growled and snatched the device from his servos.

Knock-out continued to sip his steaming beverage and Breakdown kept arranging tools and equipment as the seeker read the information presented to him. Sharp vermilion eyes swiped over the data, taking in every detail and scrap of information, searching for any indication of a lie. He may be a respected Air Commander, but he was also a trained and accomplished scientist and knew how to read a medical report and how to spot inaccuracies. To his displeasure he found none. The information obtained seemed to be correct and in keeping with what he would expect of an early diagnosed carrier. The Autobot was sparked. Slag. This didn’t bode well. For the first time in centuries, he was at a loss; he had never planned for something like this. He didn’t know what to think.

The seeker said nothing, throwing the pad back onto its pile and began pacing the length of the med-bay. He puffed little bursts of air through his intakes as he rubbed his neck. He could feel a processor ache coming on; it was all so horribly true. Megatron and the Autobot medic were bonded. The sparkling was real. His CPU just kept cycling the information, it was turning everything up on it’s head. Things were going to change and most likely not for the better, at least not for him. He shook his helm, looking up as if to glean some kind of comfort or direction from the ceiling above. He gained none, which wasn’t that surprising. Slag it to the pit and back. What the frag was he going to do?

“A lot to take in, huh? “ Knock-out’s soft voice broke the silence. “Truth be told, I nearly had spark failure when I saw it on the screen.”   
“You an’ me both.” Breakdown chipped in from across the room. At that, Starscream actually chuckled.  
“I bet the Autobot was none to thrill about the news either.”   
“You’d think. Actually, believe it or not, Ratchet was… pleased.” It was that comment that made the seekers repeating thoughts stall.

“That I find very hard to believe,” he replied even as he shot a questioning look at the medic, genuinely curious about the odd behaviour.  
“On my creator’s sparks, all true. The Autobot seemed quite content with the news and became very… unhappy about me even mentioning a termination. I have the dent to prove it,” Knock-Out muttered, absently rubbing the grove in the back of his helm. He was going to have to get Breakdown to look at it later. “Even stranger, was that he and Megatron seemed rather. . . . affectionate. . . towards each other.”

“What do you mean by… affectionate?” Starscream asked, pulling a face like he’d smelt something offensive.  
“Well… you know… all, clicks and whistles and a lot of touching,” The medic said, a wicked gleam in his optics and wiggling his servos for emphasis, “I don’t know if it was due to the dark Energon that got in his systems or the fact that our beloved Lord must be processor blowing in the berth room, but Ratchet seemed quite taken with him and not too bothered that he’d just bonded with his most sworn enemy.” Starscream heard what the medic said but there was only one fact that sang out to him.

“Dark Energon?” he asked.  
“It seems that during their… time together, Megatron inadvertently transferred a considerable quantity of highly processed dark Energon in to his systems. I’m running tests tomorrow to see how much is there, how quickly it’s travelling through his systems and what exactly its affect are; that kind of stuff.”  
“Why are you not doing so now? Why are you waiting until tomorrow?” The air commander questioned.

“You’ll have to ask Megatron. His orders,” Knock-Out said with a shrug. Starscream’s brows drew together; this was all so bizarre- he needed to speak to the fragger himself.  
“Where is he now?” he demanded.  
“He went back to his quarters after the announcement.”   
When Knock-Out finished speaking, Starscream turned and strode out of the med-bay without another word.  
“Oh are you done with me! Well lovely chatting, so nice of you to drop by!” the doctor called sarcastically after him before being cut off by the closing doors.

The seeker paused for a moment outside the Med-Bay as he organised his thoughts. His head was still swimming, a million and one questions to ponder and to pose to his leader were running though his head. After a deep, heavy intake, Starscream set his jaw and began striding briskly down towards the turbolifts to ride the short distance onto the officer’s deck.

It was this floor that Megatron and his top lieutenants were housed on. Megatron’s quarters were the largest on board and located on a side of the hall, with Starscream and the other lieutenants on the other. The door was as large as their owner, bore the Decepticon symbol and a personal identification tag beside the entrance. He glared menacingly at the name before hitting the call button beneath it, a little harder than necessary. Starscream waited…. And waited… and waited….

He hit the button again, patience already worn thin by the day’s events was beginning to fray. The Air Commander’s left optic and wing started to twitch in growing annoyance and he slammed the button for a third time, succeeding in denting the metal. He felt a little satisfied by the damage but his frustration was still growing to an unbearable level. He smacked the panel yet again, this time causing sparks to fly out of the damaged console.   
“Oh for the love Pri-” Starscream growled, and finally reaching his breaking point, yelled. “I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE! ANSWER THE BLASTED DOOR!” 

The scream seemed to have worked as he finally heard movement, but it was still quite a while before the doors whooshed open. The furious seeker was about to unleash a torrent of accusations and disapproval until he saw the state of his master. All speech died in his vocalizer, optic’s widening in shock as he looked the monstrous mech up and down. Megatron leant against the door frame covered in scratches and white streaks of paint. On his lower regions, though his panels were closed, fresh glistening lubricant mixed with dark transfluid stained his plating. The reek of interface and overload wafted from the mech’s heated frame; it was like a punch in the face the scent so overpowering. There was a rather glazed look in his lord’s brilliant red optics. It took a long moment for the large mech to even recognise there was somebot standing there.

“Ah… there you are,” Megatron gave him a somewhat out of character, lop-sided grin. “I was beginning to wonder when you would show up demanding answers.” The large mech chuckled deeply. The seeker cleared his intakes, composing himself somewhat in front of the spectacle before him. The smell alone was distracting enough.

“I would have been here sooner, but I went to Knock-Out to make sure this wasn’t some badly thought out, elaborated hoax you neglected to fill me in on. I can clearly see it’s not.” Starscream replied flatly, glaring at his leader with a judgmental optic.  
“Not even I would jest when it came to sharing my spark, Starscream,” Megatron replied rather casually, looking ever so relaxed as he lent against the door.

“If you don’t mind me saying, this seems a very sudden and dangerous decision. I don’t understand your logic, Megatron. I simply cannot comprehend what you seek to gain from bedding an enemy,” Starscream replied snippily. Even though he really did know the reason behind all of the fuss, he wasn’t going to make that clear to his adversary. Megatron merely waved him off lazily, which only worked to fuel his agitation further.

“As my second, it is not your place to understand my reasons, just to follow my lead and obey my orders. Who I take to my berth is no concern of yours,” Starscream bristled at being fobbed off with so little regard, wings hitching high as he changed tactics and played the part of dutifully cautious commander.

“I believe it is my concern when it is an enemy prisoner who has been loyal to his faction and leader for millennia. He could potentially be a spy, using his valve and seductive words as a means to win your favour to get close to you. The Autobots would do anything to gather information or attempt assassination; I would bet that would even include whoring themselves out for a chance to slaughter you while you slept,” he replied lowly. That changed Megatron’s attitude; his eyes became sharp with anger and he rumbled menacingly. The seeker remained still but flinched inside at the subtle threats made through the warlord’s shift.

“Watch yourself Starscream; this is the first and last time I will hear of this nonsense,” he hissed coldly, “You will not speak of him in such a way again, I will not tolerate it! Whilst Ratchet is here and carrying my sparkling his is no longer our enemy; he is not a threat. While here, he is my mate and shall be treated as such. Do I make myself clear Starscream?” The large silver mech stated firmly. The last statement caught the flyer off guard, the day was full of surprises. Unfortunately, most of them were completely unpleasant and left the seeker with a horrid, bitter taste on his glossa. Against his better judgment he started to protest.  
“You can’t seriously trust that he-” 

“I have no doubt about his… allegiance,” the warlord broke in. “But for the moment, Ratchet is content with his position here at my side… and in my berth,” he added with a sly smirk, seemingly pleased with the way it made his commander’s optics and wings twitch. “He is more than happy to bear me my young, and I am satisfied with the arrangement. That is all you or anyone else need be concerned about.”   
“But, my Lor-” The seeker started, only to be halted yet again.

“Who’s that?” Another voice cut into his protest from somewhere within the room beyond. The seeker recognised it immediately as the Autobot medic.  
“Just Starscream.” The Decepticon leader called, remarkably casually, over his shoulder.  
“Ah… well if he’s not doing anything important, tell him to make himself useful and get us some Energon! I’m starving here!” came the cranky reply.

Starscream spluttered in indignation. The sheer cheek of it! Just because he had fragged and got sparked by their pit- swine glitch of a leader, that didn’t mean the Autobot could just throw out orders! Especially to him! at shocked him more was that Megatron’s optics seemed to light with perverse glee. He gave the seeker a large and overly happy smile, brimming with sadistic amusement.

“What a good idea,” Megatron chuckled at the speechless aerial Commander. Someone could have come along and knocked the poor mech over with a feather at the moment as his master continued. “My bearer requires fuel, as do I. See that there is sufficient amount brought to us and also see that all duties are carried out without trouble. I will be… unavailable for the rest of the cycle,” The large gladiator said smoothly.  
“Unavailable?” Starscream repeated, optics blinking widely.

“Yes… I am quite sure the crew would forgive me a cycle to spend alone with my new mate,” his grin grew impossibly wide over his sharp, shark-like denta, “After all, we do have much to celebrate.” 

With a final gloating look in his red optics, the large Decepticon stepped back and let the doors slide shut. He left the seeker standing in the dark hall, a burning mix of disbelief and fury bubbling up within as he glared the door. Starscream vowed to himself that he was going to make Megatron pay for this insult. He didn’t know when or how just yet, but he knew he was going to make the pompous, bucket- headed aft regret this. He’d get his own back, somehow… one way or another. He’d make them suffer. Both Megatron and his little Autobot whore.


	8. Sticky, Sweet and Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatrons going away for a few days... Ratchets not happy about it...

“How long will you be gone for?” Ratchet asked with a scowl as he paced restlessly in front of the ember pit.  
“A few solar cycles at least,” Megatron answered, reclining on the long, plush sofa, looking over the data- pads Soundwave had given him.   
The day before he’d spent a glorious cycle lounging with the white mech in his quarters, indulging in smooth highgrade Energon and deliciously explicit sexual escapades. 

It was an utterly delightful respite; he could have easily spent another cycle repeating yesterdays’ events. But sadly, the life of a lord stops for nobot and he had to return to his own duties of overseeing the Decepticon army. He believed humans had a saying. ‘No rest for the wicked.’ Megatron smiled to himself; he rather liked that phrase.

There were some issues with one of the mines. It had been going on for quite some time now and, fed up with the continued excuses from the work force foreman, he was going to see what the problems were for himself. Perhaps his presence and making a few examples of why they should do their jobs correctly would set the miners straight. Sometime a leader needed to remind his followers just why they followed. It seemed another human saying was true, ‘if you wanted something done correctly you had to do it yourself’.

“Well, just what am I superposed to do while you’re gone?” Ratchet asked haughtily, hands going to his hips and looking very put out.   
“Anything you want. If you require something to entertain you, Soundwave will be happy to provide it.” Megatron said, looking up from the info pad.   
The medic looked less than impressed. Ratchet huffed; his large, detailed arms crossed over his chest and a sour look pulled at his handsome face.

“I doubt you’d be happy to let Soundwave do what I want.” Ratchet snorted, but his pouting expression slowly changed into a sly smirk. Megatron felt a great deal of mischievousness bubble through their bond and narrowed his optics. Watching the medic curiously as he continued. “Though saying that, I could certainly come up with some interesting things for him to do with those unique… appendages of his.” 

Ratchet optics seemed to shine with glee as his deviously clever mind began to work. Megatron’s lower jaw hung slightly open, he stared, stunned at the now grinning medic that appeared to be pondering all manner of rude possibilities. The arousal that began to seep strongly through their link was beginning to make his frame tingle in anticipation.

“Hmmm, yes… now I think of it, I’m sure I could put him to very good use while you’re gone. I change my mind; he’ll certainly keep me entertained for a few days. You can go.” Ratchet smiled happily and waved his servo in a little shooing motion.   
“I’ll be quite happy with my new toy.” 

Megatron had quickly found that his new bondmate was nearly insatiable when it came to interfacing, if what they’d got up to yesterday was anything to go by. Ratchet was possibly the most imaginative bot in the berth he’d ever known, understandable, due to his age and experience. Megatron had no doubt that if Ratchet got his hands on his TIC, he’d have him doing the most unspeakable, naughty and down right depraved things. His own mind conjured up possible images and the warlord found himself both tantalised and annoyed at the prospect.

“You are mine.” Megatron rumbled lowly with a stern glare. “And you are not to engage in interfacing with anyone other then myself.”  
“Do you mean in general or just while you’re not here? What about after you get back?” Ratchet asked him, lilac optics sparkling with mirth. “How about before you go? Just imagine it, we could get Soundwave in here right now and you can watch while we put you on a little show,” he suggested, his voice dropping to a seductive purr.   
His armour glowed with reflected orange and red light from then ember pit. He looked like one of the Unmaker’s enticing pit demons, the ones that legends said beckoned you to your doom in the smelting fire with lustful promises. Megatron found himself frozen and just listened to the mechs smooth voice. 

“How would you like that, hmm? Would you find that entertaining? Watching as he holds me down, spreads me open and frags me hard with those long, thick, ribbed tentacles of his,” he murmured huskily, successfully making Megatron both hot and strangely enraged at the same time.   
The Decepticon growled lowly but Ratchet ignored the warning, coming around to stand in front of the mighty warlord. Lit from behind by the hot embers he was nothing but a shadow with unnaturally bright lilac optics. They bored into the gunmetal grey mechs own crimson ones as he continued to tease in his sensuous voice.

“Are you up for seeing that? Me, bound and helpless with his tentacles coiling all over me. How many of those things does he have? How many do you think he can fit inside me? Two, three maybe even… Four?”   
The doctor let out a delicious sounding moan that went straight to the silver mech’s panel.   
“Oh, can you picture it? I can; I bet that would feel sooo good. My hot, wet valve stretched so tight and full of writhing, pumping limbs. Pushing in and out, sliding against one another on their way in… oh so deep!”   
Ratchet shuttered his optics and groaned, swaying his hips provocatively. His EM field flared with burning arousal so intense it sent Megatron’s own systems into overdrive.   
“Mmmm that does sound good, doesn’t it? I’m getting all slick just thinking about it. How about we call him now and have some fun before you go? Can we? Please?” 

Megatron’s engines gave a thunderous rumble; fans shunting on thanks to the vivid picture painted by the medic’s teasing voice. The large mech snarled and made a lunge for the Autobot who skilfully dodged his grab and ran round to the end of the sofa. Laughing gleefully at the larger mechs frustrated roar, he couldn’t help but continue his teasing.   
“Oh, a little jealous are we?” Ratchet clucked playfully, leaning on the back of the furniture. “Don’t like the thought? Or is it… you like it but don’t want to share me? Awww, now isn’t that sweet.” The medic chuckled. 

Megatron scowled at him, the mech was irritatingly correct on the last account. He couldn’t deny the image he painted was very arousing; having watched live shows at the pleasure houses in Kaon and even having experimented with multiple partners on occasion. He had enjoyed both experiences immensely but strangely the thought of letting someone, even his most trusted Third, anywhere near his new playmates valve didn’t sit well with him. No matter how appealing it sounded, Ratchet was his, no one else’s. Megatron didn’t see himself as a possessive lover, he just put the odd feeling down to disinclination to sharing his new favourite toy. At least for now… 

Ever so slowly Megatron stood, dropping the pad on the sofa, calculating that he had enough time to set the medic straight before they arrived at their destination.  
“Come here,” he rumbled, beckoning him with a languid servo, “And I’ll show you just why you don’t need any other bot.”   
“You sound very certain of yourself.”   
“With good reason. Now… come to me,” the warlord ordered, his voice dipping to a low purr.

Ratchet didn’t need any further encouragement, leaping forwards and moving to twine his limbs around the massive silver mechs body and crushing their lips together. If Megatron been a lesser being, the medic would have sent him flying back onto the floor with his hefty weight. Instead, the gladiator easily caught him with only a minor adjustment of his footing. Megatron deepened the kiss as he shamelessly groped the medics aft, revelling in the feel of heated plating. He supported his mate while he strode briskly into the berthroom, the doctors mouth locked with his own in a sensual battle of lips and glossa.

Megaton dropped him onto the berth, Ratchet laughing giddily as he bounced on the foam. Scooting back the mech looked up at him with clear adoration in his optics, a look that Megatron had grown very fond of in such a short space of time. As Ratchet lay there the larger Cybertronian slowly climbed up onto the berth with all the prowess of a mighty predator. 

The Decepticon took hold of the medics ankle and nibbled at the joints composing the ped. He licking along the captured leg, delving with his long glossa into the gaps between plating. Megatron paid special attention to the intricate detailing on the medic’s thigh and ran his glossa over the sensitive wires beneath the plates. Ratchet squirmed and wriggled as the silver mechs lips latched onto his groin and began to bite down with sharp teeth. They scraped the delicate joint almost to the point of pain, but Ratchet was panting in arousal at the rough treatment. 

“Open up for me, my pet,” Megatron purred, running his glossa over the abused metal soothingly. Obediently the panelling slid away to reveal the mechs most intimate opening. The Autobot was already so wet and ready for him, dripping with a viscous blue lubricant that leaked out from between soft, heated folds.

The gladiator lent down and took a moment to breathe in the heady aroma, then swiped at the leaking valve with his hot glossa. It had Ratchet twitching in his grasp, panting breathlessly. Thanks to his new lover, Megatron had rediscovered his liking for oral interface, finding that he enjoyed not only the sounds he could get out of him, but the taste of the Autobot on his lips; the older model was so incredibly sweet. Megatron would have liked nothing more then to of tease his lover further. To lap up the medics delicious offering till he begged for release… but time was pressing and he needed to be leaving soon. 

He reluctantly moved away and travelled up the bulky body, biting and scraping with his denta as he went till he came to the Autobots mouth. Megatron ran his glossa along the medics parted lip plate, letting his hot breath wash over the aroused mechs face before claiming his mouth. Ratchets legs instantly wrapped around his waist, the pressure on his back urging him to come closer, to unite with him. 

His spike throbbed with need as it reached the older mechs opening, and Megatron groaned throatily as he breached him, pushing into the warm welcoming heat that had become so familiar and enjoyable. The white mech gave a lusty moan as he was filled; flexing his legs to pull his lover close. Ratchet shuttered his optics, panting as his inner walls stretched around the Decepticon’s impressive girth.  
“Oh yes … uuugh, you feel so good… mmm, move, frag me...” The medic ground out, grinding his hips against the silver Decepticon, driving him even deeper still.

The warlord smirked, more than happy to oblige. Taking the medics hands in each of his, Megatron roughly hoisted them up either side of the other mech’s helm, pushing them deep into the foam mattress. Effectively pinning the mech down, he started up a fast, brutal pace, slamming home with a monstrous jolt that shook the smaller mechs frame with each thrust.

The room filled with the sound of clashing metal and Ratchets voice crying out in sweet panting gasps; spurring him on with calls for ‘faster!’, ‘harder!’ or just wordless sounds of pleasure. They all had Megatrons circuits tingling, knowing that he was making this once virtuous and noble doctor beg and moan for him like a two bit whore. The Decepticon wondered what the Autobots old college at the Senate would have said if they’d seen the respectable physician doing some of the things they had done yesterday. He wondered what the rest of Team Prime would say if they knew just how filthy their doctor really was.

A deliciously depraved thought shot though his mind. He wanted a sweet, wicked memory to take with him and see him through while he was away; one that he would also be able to review and enjoy later. He cast a quick glance up to the corner of the room where he knew one of Soundwave monitoring cameras were. He’d instructed Soundwave to keep the room monitored continuously for safety and for his own viewing pleasure. He couldn’t deny the opportunity to watch all the adventurous things they’d gotten up to was very appealing. But, right now he had to concentrate; he needed to get his timing right.

Megatron continued his relentless pace, though his movement were starting to get jerky as he drew close to his peak. He could feel the Autobot also reaching his limit, tilting his hips he gave a few more hard, deep thrusts, angled just so which had Ratchet screaming in bliss. Megatron felt the ripples of overload flow over their bond and the valve clench tightly around his spike, beginning a chain reaction. Moments before his own peak hit, he released the medic’s hands and pulled out. Taking hold of his thick, throbbing spike, he aimed, ran his servo twice over the length and overloaded over the medics plating.

The Decepticon gave a sharp cry with his release. His euphoria melded with purring delight at the sight of his trans-fluid spurting out over his partner. Ratchet gave a little moan of his own and smiled tiredly as it rained down on him, covering the mech in warm, sticky threads that clung thickly to his armour. Megatron continued to run his servos slowly along his length, coaxing out the very last of his fluids and to prolonging his pleasure. His whole body shuddered when there was no more to give, his spike depressurising in his hand.

The gladiator sat back, puffing hot air as he admired his handiwork. He was impressed with himself at how much trans-fluid there was and how far it had travelled. To his amazement a large amount managed to reach the medics glass panels and even up onto his faceplates, like someone had taken a loaded paintbrush and flicked it at the mech, decorating his cheek and ran to his mouth. Ratchet lay there venting heavily as he was still coming down from his own heady overload. 

Ratchets bright lilac optics were half shuttered, his mouth agape but pulled into a soft smile at the unexpected attention. Covered in condensation, shimmering lubricant and glistening purple tinted, luminous bio-fluid. The liquids made a stark, striking contrast on his beautiful white bodywork. He looked exhausted, dented, scratched, filthy and to Megatrons optics… utterly stunning. More importantly, the medic looked completely his.

Megatron couldn’t tell how long he sat there just basking in post overload joy and gazing admiringly at the mech beneath him. The gladiator reached out and ran his servos over the white body, smearing the trans-fluid over the armour. He leant over the exhausted medic and slowly licked away the sticky mess from the mechs face. The gladiator lent in and pressed his lips against the medic’s, their kiss was slow and sloppy, Ratchet sucking greedily at his trans- fluid coated glossa.

They both moaned in pleasure at the sweet kiss, spiced with the bitter tang of bio-fluid. They parted breathlessly and after many moments, Megatron raised his servo to caress the doctors face. Ratchet caught a finger in his mouth and began suckling on it enthusiastically like an Energon treat, enjoying the still- present taste of fluids on the limb.

Megatron smirked down at the white mech; there was really nothing that this mech wouldn’t do. He started to wonder what else he could get from him? how deep did the doctor’s hunger go? How far could he push his depravity? He began to wonder if Optimus used him in such a way. 

Had Ratchet ever let Prime frag him hard on a desk or bent over furniture? Had Optimus ever tied him up and ravaged him till he was a stuttering swearing mess of metal? Had his adversary ever taken the doctor up against a wall or in a flowing shower? Had the prime ever had the medic talk dirty to him while he fragged him? Had his old friend ever had the doctor on his knees before him, bringing him to climax with his oh so talented mouth? The Megatron had found that Ratchet was very good at that. Had Optimus, that oh so virtuous, prudish mech he’d once known, ever used him ever in such a way? He’d very much doubted it… oh what his brother had missed out on. Sadly… time was up. Right now he was needed elsewhere… he really needed to go. 

“Behave for Knock-Out and Soundwave. Do as they ask and I’ll make sure you’re well rewarded upon my return.” Megatron spoke softly.  
“Sounds like a deal.” Ratchet purred sleepily, leaning up slightly to nuzzle the larger mechs cheek.  
“And no seducing my crew while I’m gone either,” the Warlord grinned playfully.  
“Spoil sport…” The medic grumbled. “Alright… I promise not to actively try…”   
He sighed before closing his optics, falling back from Megatron and slipping quickly into a exhaustion- induced recharge. The Decepticon watched him for a few moments more, etching the sight onto his memory banks before silently getting up.

After a quick rinse and buff in the wash rack, Megatron left his quarters, a satisfied smirk on his face and a spring in his long stride. He made his way up to the launch platform atop the Nemesis where Starscream and Soundwave were awaiting his arrival. When he saw his TIC he couldn’t stop the flood of images that Ratchet conjured up earlier from crossing his mind. He clearing his intake, he tried to brush off the unsettling feelings in his tanks.

“Starscream, make sure everything continues to run smoothly. I do not wish to find anything out of place upon my return.” he warned. The hidden meaning of not touching the Autobot wasn’t lost on his second in command.  
“Of course, my lord. Everything will be as you left it.” He bowed lowly. Megatron eyed him suspiciously before turning to the silent spy.

“Soundwave, I want to be sure that my bearer is looked after. Give him anything he asks for. Just be sure to ask him… nicely, if you require anything from him and he should be no trouble for you or Knock-Out.”  
//Understood: Lord Megatron//

Megatron stepped away and was about to transform when a stray thought of Soundwave and Ratchet together in his berth, intertwined and writhing in steady pleasure resurfaced. He knew it shouldn’t be bothering him this much, he knew he could trust Soundwave. Hand on his spark he honestly knew this for a fact. The slender mech was indeed the only mech he implicitly trusted with his own life and the charge of his new bearer. 

The large Gladiator had no fear that Ratchet might use his absence as an opportunity to try to escape, he knew the mech was going to stay put. Problem was, he didn’t know how much he could trust Ratchet to… behave in that way in his absence. He’d found a revved up Ratchet was a force to be reckoned with and found himself more than a little worried for his TIC. He didn’t want to put his most faithful mech in a compromising situation. Megatron sighed and looked back over his shoulder. 

“Soundwave, a word of caution… don’t be alone my quarters with him for too long.” That comment made the two lieutenants stand straight and sent the spy’s spark swirling in confusion. Did Megatron think that he would… violate his carrying bonded in his absences? It actually hurt his feelings to think that’s what was being thought and quickly moved to soothe his Lord’s worries.  
//Lord Megatron: Soundwave: would never-// But Megatron cut him off with a wave of a hand and a small reassuring smile.

“I have no doubt that you will remain a gentlebot in my absence, It’s not a request for his benefit, Soundwave, but for yours.”   
Starscream looked suitably perplexed for both of them.  
//Benefit: Soundwave?// The slender mech asked.  
The Gladiator nodded. The spy was relieved to know the large mechs trust in him had not wavered, but was still dreadfully confused.   
//Inquiry: Why Master?//  
“I trust you to behave in that regard Soundwave, I do not trust my bonded to do the same. He has… Ideas. I am just concerned about you getting out of my quarters in one piece with your panel intact.” With a parting suggestive look he ran and jumped of the launch pad into the air, transforming and flying onwards towards the troublesome mine, leaving two devastated mechs behind.

“Oh Primus, I could have gone the rest of my function without knowing that,” Starscream said dryly once his master was gone. His slender features bore an appalled and disgusted face before turning and walking back inside, leaving a somewhat confused and dazed Soundwave behind.

Soundwave was very, very glad no one could see his face when thing like things like this happened; the heated blush that almost scalded his face would have been humiliating. He stood there in a stupor as he thought about his master’s words. Ratchet had… Ideas? About him? Did this mean Ratchet found him attractive?

Soundwave actually found himself feeling immensely flattered and his spark lifted a little with giddy, childish pride. It wasn’t everyday you got told someone you admire wants to drag you to a berth and strip you of your panel.   
‘It’s the little things that make your day,’ he though.


	9. Of Doctors...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet has a doctors appointment with KnockOut

Hours after Megatron’s departure for the mines, the Nemesis found itself lazily drifting over the Atlantic Ocean on the way to a new Energon deposit. Soundwave had been contacted by Knock-Out and asked to bring their new crewmate down for testing. The spy was now on his way to his masters quarters to retrieve the carrying mech, only this time without an armed guard present.

Megatron’s decree stated that Ratchet was their guest and was to be treated as such. Judging by what he had seen of Ratchet’s recent behaviour, Soundwave was confident that such heavy security would no longer be necessary, though he was going to ensure that a guard was with him at all times. This was more for the medic’s protection than anything else as Soundwave was certain that Ratchet wouldn’t try to leave; it would cause major conflict in his carrying protocols to endanger his young or even leave his new sparkmate. As long as he felt safe and secure when Megatron was away, the doctor would remain agreeable. 

However, there were certain elements on board he didn’t trust, namely Starscream and Airachnid. He didn’t trust either of them as far as he could throw them- and being an ex-gladiator he could toss things quite far- there was no telling what plots their twisted processors could be capable of. Soundwave was going to make sure there was always a mech he trusted with Ratchet when he himself was absent from the medic’s side. There was no telling what either lieutenant might do to ruin his lord’s plans.

When Soundwave arrived, he went to press the call button on the door pad only to find it smashed in. The super spy tilted his head quizzically as he sent a message to the maintenance crew, curtly requesting for someone to come down and fix it as soon as possible. The panel gave off a spark and the unpleasant aroma of singed circuits wafted through the air. 

Curiously he jabbed at the panel, hiding his surprise when it began to work sluggishly. His highly tuned audio sensors picked up the door chime, but it was distorted and sounded unpleasant to his trained audios. A few moments later the door opened and the Decepticon came face to face with the Autobot medic. He looked like he’d just come out of the wash racks and a faint scent of fragrant cleanser rolled off his warm frame.

“Good Morning Soundwave.” The white mech smiled from the other side, startling the TiC with his cheerfulness. The slender purple mech gave a polite bow to his masters new mate, relieved to finally be able to show Ratchet the courtesy and respect he so rightly deserved.  
//Greetings: Ratchet: Rested?// Soundwave inquired.  
“Quite well; I don’t think I’ve slept so well in an age. That berth is just so comfortable!” Ratchet chuckled, “But what brings you here?”

//Knock-Out: Request presence: tests required.// the masked mech stated.  
“Ah yes, I’d forgotten about them,” the medic nodded, “Well, no time like the present I suppose,” stepping out of the room and into the hall, “Very well. Lead on.”

They walked side by side in a comfortable silence all the way to the turbolift. During the trip Soundwave covertly watched his charge- there were more scratches and dents than yesterday. The large wounds on his thighs were still looked painful, yet the doctor seemed to be unbothered by their presence. Once they disembarked on their desired deck Soundwave asked a question he was dying to know, praying it wouldn’t insult the mech beside him and end up with a punch in the face.

//Soundwave: has inquiry.// he spoke up suddenly, catching the medic off guard.  
“Oh?”  
//Ratchet: pleased with condition?//   
“You mean about the sparkling?” the Autobot asked. The dark spy gave a curt nod.  
“Truth is I’m more then happy. It’s been long time since I carried and I always enjoyed the experience.” The medic replied, a wistful smile spreading across his face as he gently rubbed his breastplates. Soundwave watched him for a moment, considering his next words carefully before continuing his inquiry.  
//Megatron: Sire: Acceptable?//   
At that, Ratchet laughed out loud. 

“Well, It’s a little late to be worrying about that,” the doctor grinned at the smaller mech. It was such a disarmingly charming thing that the Decepticon couldn’t help the answering twitch of his own concealed lip plates. Ratchet then shook his helm ruefully. “If I’m honest he’s not the first mech I’d choose, but saying that, he certainly has his charms and talents. I can’t really complain.”  
//Inquiry: Optimus Prime?// 

The spy knew he’d said the wrong thing the moment he sent it over the comm. Ratchet pleasant mood shifted dramatically in moments; Soundwave could have sworn the temperature dropped alongside the medic’s face. The white mech’s unnatural lilac optics took on a haunted and conflicted cast as he looked determinedly ahead, EM field suddenly becoming tense.

“Please do not talk about him,” Ratchet stated stiffly, “I do not wish to think about him or what I was. Here and now is what’s important, It’s all that matters to me now. Do you understand?”  
//Understood.// Soundwave nodded, readily accepting the medic’s terms. He assumed that not talking about his previous affiliation or his position as his Prime’s companion would make the whole situation easier for him. The spy couldn’t blame the mech for his choice; such a drastic shift in allegiance would challenge even the most resolute. //Respect wishes: Soundwave: Apologises: was curious: Meant no offence: No discomfort//

“There was no offence,” Ratchet sighed. “I just…”  
//Ratchet: thoughts of past: undesired and unwelcome. Request: understood// the spy sent solemnly. //Subject: will not be mentioned: Soundwave: gives word//  
“That would be very much appreciated; thank you for your understanding,” Ratchet murmured gratefully, his voice turning strained and full of undisclosed emotions.

Soundwave was not a physical mech by nature. Save for battle and the occasional communal shower he took with the drones he generally preferred to keep bots at arm’s length, especially those he deemed dangerous. The spy found it easier to spot if they were trying to stab him in the back that way. But overt, outward shows of emotion were just not his thing. He was the antithesis to Starscream, who would wail shrilly, stamp his high heeled pedes and let his displeasure be known to all on the entire Nemesis.

Yet now, Soundwave found himself retching out to the mech beside him to offer him much- needed reassurance and comfort. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to do so; he couldn’t interpret his own turbulent thoughts correctly at present. There were far too many conflicting emotions, as well as the horrid sense of foreboding he had about the whole sordid situation. Soundwave’s long, spindly servos rose to place the barest of touches on the medic’s arm.  
Ratchet regarded him curiously, but the Decepticon merely tilted his helm and spoke.

//Ratchet: a good mech: Soundwave: respect: Ratchet: caring: Call: when have need: Ask: I shall provide: Soundwave: at your service: Soundwave: wants Ratchet happy here// Soundwave’s words were nothing but the honest truth. He did respect the older mech greatly and he wanted to do everything in his power to make his stay here as comfortable as he possible could, given the circumstances. The spy was delighted to see that kind smile return. Ratchets lilac optics softened, positive emotions replacing the dreary ones in his processor.

“Thank you for your kindness, it means a great deal,” The medic replied, placing his own servo over the spy’s in gratitude. Soundwave was suddenly struck by how large the medic’s servos actually were- large, yet very gentle and warm. The contact only lasted for a moment before the limb returned to its owner’s side, but Soundwave felt a great deal of relief at having being forgiven. When the mech spoke again, his voice took on a mischievous tone. “Though I will say, don’t let Megatron hear that you’re at my beck and call. You’ll give him the wrong idea… and give me some very naughty ones.” 

Soundwave jaw dropped behind his mask as a furious heat spread over his faceplates. Ratchet just grinned roguishly at him, further flustering the TiC with a teasing wink and a click of his glossa. The spy hurriedly turned back to the medic, facings the doors. It seemed safer to the tentacled bot. On the flip side, the doctor was back to his happy self, chuckled lightly beside the slender mech. It appeared that Megatron’s warnings were not exaggerated after all. Thankfully it was only a few moments before the turbo-lift opened and they soon arrived at their destination.

“Welcome back,” the Decepticon medic’s cultured voice called out as they entered, “I trust you will refrain for causing further chaos in my med-bay today?”   
Soundwave was always astounded at how a voice that that sounded so pleasant could come out of something so devious. One of the many mysteries of the universe, he supposed. 

“I promised to be on my best behaviour,” Ratchet smiled cheerily, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture, “That is, unless I feel I need to cause a little chaos to get my point across.” The sports car gave a pout. “Fair enough…” The Aston Martin sighed, guessing that was going to be the best he got from the mech. The medic wasn’t going to argue with a carrying and easily upset Autobot- he still had the dent as a reminder. “Up on the berth if you please” 

Ratchet silently complied by climbing onto the sloping medical berth, shifting a little to get comfortable. Soundwave stood out of the way, almost blending into the background as the doctor and his assistant began their task, hooking the older mech up to various monitors and starting to run numerous tests. The spy stood silently, watching for any malpractice that could endanger either the Autobot or the sparkling. 

“Last time I examined you, I noticed there’s a lot of scarring on your protoform and around your gestation tank,” Knock-Out spoke up as he worked the computer, “I take it you’ve had sparklings before?”  
“I have, three to be precise,” Ratchet answered readily.  
“Only three? That doesn’t explain the amount of damage I’m seeing here. I would have guessed at least double that number.”   
“I carried split spark twins. The carriage was rather difficult on my frame,” the Autobot informed him, and everymech in the room could detect the hint of pride in his voice and understandably so.

Twins were a very, very rare thing among Cybertronians and it was widely known that most never survived long enough to be birthed. The carrying process was fraught with complications and almost all twins died long before their birth date. To even conceive twins was considered praise- worthy. Knock-Out looked suitably impressed, while Breakdown paused what he was doing and now looked upon the mech with something close to awe.

“You carried twins?” The blue wrecker asked gently, he clearly wanted to know but did not want to touch too firmly on a delicate subject. Ratchet only smiled brightly and nodded.  
“Carried them all the way through to full term and they were both born without much trouble. I’m apparently the lucky 0.01% that can bear twin sparks. It was still painful though, and caused a pit load of stress on my frame. It’s never really healed properly. Then I had another sparkling not long afterwards and that just seemed to compact the damage, hence all the scarring,” Knock-out nodded in understanding, making notes on a pad.

“What was it like?” Breakdown asked, clearly fascinated with the subject.   
“What? Carrying twins?”   
The one eyed mech nodded vigorously.   
“Uncomfortable. My chest plates were out here,” The medic replied honestly and indicated with his servos how far his chest plates expanded, “It got to the point where I didn’t want to move and the mood swings…Ugh! I thought that Primus was punishing me for something and everyone was out to get me!” Ratchet chuckled. “Having the single one afterwards was a joy!” Breakdown laughed quietly to himself as he worked the monitors, a moment passing before he asked in a very quiet, almost shy voice.  
“They say that… you can hear the sparkling while it’s still inside. Is it true?”

“I don’t know about hearing much… a sparkling doesn’t have anything to say until it is in its secondary frame,” Ratchet laughed in amusement. Breakdown’s face soured a little, feeling he was being mocked.  
“Right,” he said drily, clearly feeling a little stupid for asking a silly question.  
“But,” Ratchet continued, “You do feel it moving, it’s spark pulsing and when it gets nearer to the time for birthing… it’s feelings become legible through its EM field. Is that’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Really?” the larger blue mech gasped as he diverted his attention back to the older bot, earlier embarrassment forgotten completely.  
“I could tell when they were grumpy, happy, restless, contented… you get to know your sparkling’s personality quite well even before they emerge. The twins would fidget relentlessly- one would wake up earlier than the other and kick his brother awake, then they would have little kick fights in the late evening. The two of them would go on for hours! I ended up having to banging on my chest plates to get them to stop. The littlest one on the other hand was a quiet thing, but he was very fond of somersaulting first thing in the morning, he loved music, used to swish inside to the beats and he liked to be sung to.”  
“Wow. That is… awesome.”   
The ex-wrecker’s reverence of the Autobot was clear in his optic.

“I’d stop that talk if I were you,” Knock-Out warned with narrowed optics.  
“Why?” the older mech demanded, matching the other medic with a challenging glare.  
“Because you’ll give him ideas!” the Aston Martin snapped, “I don’t care how lovely you make it all sound, I am not getting sparked! If he had his way there’d be more than one new spark on board!” he hissed, waving the pad accusingly at his assistant. The blue mech just looked affectionately over at his co-worker.

“What? Can you blame me?” the big mech asked, feigning hurt. Ratchet hummed, taking an appraising look at his counterpart before smirking at the large mech and replying.  
“No, I certainly can’t- he is rather bangable isn’t he.”  
Breakdown let out a roar of a laugh while the red sports car groaned.  
“Oh Primus, help me,” Knock-out muttered and glared at the self- satisfied Autobot lying on the berth as his assistant cackled with mirth. 

Though Soundwave remained outwardly motionless, he let himself grin broadly behind the safety of his mask at the shockingly friendly banter. He wasn’t surprised by the resident medic’s grumbling. It was a public secret on the Nemesis that Knock-Out and Breakdown’s relationship was more than just combat or work partners. It seemed that Megatron was not the only one with sparklings on the mind. 

“Alright, enough! Let’s finish up; I don’t want to be doing this all day!” Knock-out yelled snippily.  
“Yes sir,” Breakdown saluted, never losing his monstrous grin as he turned back to his machinery. The next few minutes passed in peace while the Decepticon medic compiled and analysed the readings. It wasn’t long before something disturbing caught his attention, causing the doctor to hum to himself in thought. This wasn’t missed by his sharp- audioed patient.

“I don’t like that Knock-out,” Ratchet said sternly, cool gazed fixed on the smaller mech, “I know what noises like that mean, what is wrong?”  
“Nothing is wrong,” the medic lied easily, though instantly regretted it as Ratchet cuffed him around the helm. The bot yelped shrilly, not really hurt but startled at the sudden assault.  
“Do not try fobbing me off youngling! I’m old enough to know better, now tell me what you’ve found,” the mech demanded. Knock-Out rubbed his poor abused helm, realising that it was probably better for his own health and finish if he just told the carrying bot the truth, no matter how awkward.

“There is a lot of Dark Energon in your system,” Knock-Out said simply, “I am humming because I am a little concerned about the sparklet.”  
“Why?” Ratchet asked, face suddenly turning grim, “I feel fine!”  
“That may well be true. We know that Dark Energon has regenerative and other beneficial properties in the short term, but we still know very little about its effects on a fully grown bot with long term exposure. We also have no idea if it will have an effect on a developing sparklet, and if it does… to what extent.” The fierce glare suddenly melted from Ratchet’s face, his optics widening in what the other Cybertronians could only call fear.

“D-do you think it’s going to hurt the sparkling?” Ratchet asked, his voice quiet and shaky. Knock-out was take back by the complete 180 degree turn, the extremely worried if not terrified look that was now present on the older mechs face made his spark twist painfully. Knock-Out felt oddly conflicted- there was no reason he should be so concerned about the Autobots emotional state. Ratchet was only yesterday a captured enemy; his master’s newly sparked up toy. 

Perhaps it was the doctor in him or maybe the strange playful banter he had with Breakdown that suddenly endeared him. Perhaps it was just due to a desire not to be beaten to death by the mech or his bad- tempered bondmate if he upset the other medic. Whatever it was, as it stood now Ratchet was his priority patient and his responsibility, as well as the new life that was being incubated inside his chest, and he felt the urgent need to try and reassure him as best he could. 

“As you know the gestation tank has numerous filtration devices; it’s designed not to let anything harmful affect the sparklet. So far it’s all looks clean and healthy. There’s nothing there I can see that we should concern ourselves with. However, I’ll be monitoring you more closely from now on. We’ll run scans every morning and evening so we can keep an eye on everything as it progresses. If anything happens we’ll catch it before it has time to become a problem,” Knock-Out said, his voice low and smooth like warm honey, a soothing tone almost never heard onboard.

“You will tell me if there is something wrong, wont you?” Ratchet asked earnestly, placing a servo protectively over his chest. “Please, I… I don’t want to lose this. I’ve lost all my young in this war… I can’t lose this one too. It’d kill me.”   
The older mech’s optics were bright and beseeching. The sports car had seen many carriers that had lost their young during war drive themselves to the Well of Allspark out of sheer grief. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to have to witness such open raw sorrow. 

To think that the mech before him had suffered the loss of all his younglings, including those miracle twins, yet had doggedly carried on. Knock-Out felt a little more of his hardened Decepticon armour crack under his pleading lilac optics. The Aston Martin did something very unlike him; resting a slender, clawed servo on a broad shoulder and gave him a reasuering smile.  
“As your doctor, I promise that I will inform you of anything the moment it develops. But for now, all I want you to do is relax, take things easy and not to worry. That’s my job.” 

Ratchet seemed to accept his word, nodded stiffly and lent back against the berth, clearly still fretting over the possibility of something harming his unborn sparkling. It was a distressing thought for any carrier, let alone one with the pressure the older mech was under. Knock-Out busied himself in the odd silence that descended upon the group and continued to take more thorough readings. Every so often Ratchet would look over at the readouts himself, searching for any abnormality. His large servos still ran randomly over his chest were his sparklet lay, and Knock-out wasn’t sure if it was to sooth the young spark or himself. The whole demeanour change was a stark contrast to previously jovial atmosphere only mere moments ago.

“Can you see anything yet?” Ratchet asked suddenly, catching the Decepticon medic off guard. Knock-Out looked up to find a pair of purple optics gazing at him yet again, still full of a worry and literally begging for more reassurance. The Autobot began to worry his lower lip component and yet another split formed in the Decepticon’s stony spark, melting against the emotional overload. Knock Out wasn’t sure how much more he could take. 

“No. Nothing to see yet, it’s still far too early,” The tattooed sports car said, shaking his head.   
“I thought it would be.”  
Ratchet lent back with a shaky sigh of disappointment. Knock-Out’s growing sympathy for their masters newly sparked trophy mate was becoming too much, he needed to do something to make himself feel better or he was going to go nuts from the guilt building in the pit of his fuel tank.

“Too early to see anything but, if I do this…” Knock-Out smirked as he typed a few commands on the console. Moments later a distorted, rhythmic sound echoed in the room. It was fast and high pitched, making the other mechs in the room stop and listen intently.   
“What is that?” Breakdown asked, his brow pulled down in confusion, never before having herd such a sound.

“That, gentlebots, is the sound of a new spark,” Knock-Out announced grandly. He turned to the older medic, surprising everyone by giving a genuine spark warming smile. “And it sounds very healthy indeed.”   
Though Ratchet said nothing, the smile on his own face said enough. All could see and feel the gratitude exuded from the older mech as he looked up at his younger counterpart.

“Wow…” Was all Breakdown could say even more blown away then before. This was the first time he’d ever helped tend to a carrying bot and he’d never head a sound like it. It was fast and erratic, nothing like a full grown Cybertronian’s spark which had a slow, steady pulse. It sent a strange feeling welling through his frame, triggering something deep within his programming. The ex-wrecker felt an overwhelming protectiveness for the older mech.

This situation was becoming more and more real. Yesterday this all still seemed like some kind of elaborate joke, but there really was a new little life growing inside the Autobot medic. A life created from the life forces of both Ratchet and Megatron. That small spark of energy would grow and learn and feel. Become a bot and have likes and hates… would feel the pain of fighting in their endless war… would make friends and enemies… would one day fall in love… 

It was a true miracle, the wonder of creation. Something the ex-Wrecker had wanted for himself and his lover for countless centuries. It was something they had both been denied and had been denying themselves for longer than they cared to admit. Breakdown he wasn’t too proud to admit, if just to himself, that he was envious of Ratchet beyond belief.


	10. ... And Drones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet gets a tour of the Nemesis

Upon leaving the med-bay, Soundwave had planned to give Ratchet a grand tour of the Nemesis, showing him places where he’d be able to go if he wanted to get out of Megatrons quarters. While he’d kept his silent vigil during the medical, Soundwave had composed a list of low risk areas that the mech would be allowed to go and might interest him. Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans. No sooner were they out of the med-bay, Soundwave received a call from the bridge, there were some computer correlation issues. It had been an ongoing problem that cropped up every so often and caused utter havoc to everyday life on board. Soundwave was the only one skilled enough to put the mess right, but it would likely take up the remainder of the day.

//Apologies: Soudwave needed: return Ratchet: To quarters//  
“Do I have to go back just yet?” Ratchet almost whined, a disappointed look creeping over his faceplates.  
//Affirmative//  
“You know, you don’t need to spark-sit me. I’m quite capable of exploring on my own.”  
//Negative: Ratchet: Requires escort// Soundwave was not comfortable with letting the mech walk around unaccompanied, more for his own safety than anything else.

“I’m a big bot; I am fully capable of taking care of myself,” Ratchet argued.  
//Orders// Soundwave said simply, Ratchet hummed in an amused tone.  
“Megatron worrying about me is he?” he asked.  
//Affirmative// The lithe mech nodded and the doctor, in turn, laughed brightly.  
“How sweet, but does it have to be you as my chaperone? Isn’t there someone else that can show me around? Last time I looked you had quite a few bots on board. Surely they can’t all be busy?”

The spy paused, Ratchet was quite right. There were plenty of bots around. It did seem rather cruel to march the mech back and leave him locked up in his master’s quarters all alone for who knew how long. Perhaps it would do him good to have a bit of exercise, and a little exposure to the crew wouldn’t hurt. It would help to solidify Ratchet’s place, even if said place was only to be temporary. Dismissing the horrid thought the comm. officer sent a message to a couple of drones he knew he could trust. He informed Ratchet of the trouble on the bridge while they waited, and before long the two Vehicons arrived.

As they approached, Soundwave sent the two a data package each. It contained a quick list of do’s and don’ts while acting as Ratchet’s escort. As in Do be polite, respectful and courteous at all times and do not, under any circumstances, mention Optimus Prime. They were to contact him if anything was to go awry and they were not to let the mech out of their sight. They were only to be relived or dismissed by Soundwave or Megatron, no one else. In other words, do not let him go with Starscream. 

Save for a few places that were not to go to, such as the armoury, engine room and other sensitive key areas, Ratchet was free to go wherever he wished. If they were unsure, they were to contact the TiC. Above all they were to ensure Ratchet’s good mood and keep him entertained until ordered otherwise. With a gracious bow Soundwave turned and made his leave.  
“Good luck,” Ratchet called from behind, voice echoing off the walls.

“Where would you like to go sir?” One drone asked, drawing Ratchet’s attention from the departed spy. This Vehicon had a number of large diagonal marks across his right shoulder and chest, like lines of quicksilver across the enamel of his torso. In the end, the effect made him look like he’d had a run in with an out of control welder and lost. Badly.   
“I don’t know,” Ratchet replied with a shrug, “This is your ship. Where do you suggest?”

“Umm…” The welded drone looked at his companion as if asking for help. In comparison, the other mech looked like someone had kicked him into a barrel of scrap metal and rolled him down a very big hill. He was covered in a multitude of scratches, dings and had chipped paint everywhere.   
“Well sir… we could take you to see the crystal garden, if you’d like?” The mech offered, uncertainty clear in his voice. Ratchet’s optics cycled widely with disbelief.

“You have a crystal garden on board?!” he gasped, not quite believing what he’d heard. As far as he knew no crystal gardens had survived the destruction of Cybertron.  
“I wouldn’t get too excited sir- it’s more of a… patch really.” The scratched drone replied, somewhat sadly, “A few of us have been trying to make the seed crystals grow in our off time… we haven’t been too successful.”  
“Even if that is the case, I would still like to see it.” Ratchet said in earnest. With their destination chosen, the drones lead their charge way down into the bowels of the ship.

One of the smaller storage units had been converted into a makeshift sodo crystal nursery. It was pretty much how they described it. On one low tabletop in the centre of the room, under modified radiation lamps, a small patch of very young crystalline structures were forming. The only other furniture in the room was a cabinet of equipment for maintenance and benches around the walls for bots to sit and admire the plot.

Ratchet noted that there were several different types of minerals growing in the little garden, each a different colour and forming differently patterned structures. Judging form the undisturbed growth, he made an educated guess that they could only have been a few thousand years old. They were young but clearly well looked after and thriving with the attention.

“Sorry sir, we did say it was nothing special,” The silver- striped drone sighed sadly.  
“It’s not much, we know that… but we do our best though…” his companion added, sounding just as down sparked.  
“Nonsense! Their lovely!” Ratchet exclaimed, leaning down to examine a cluster of luminous emerald shards more closely, “The fact you’ve managed to grow anything is remarkable. I never thought I’d ever have the pleasure of seeing a sight like this again.”

The crystal gardens in Iacon had taken hundreds of millennia to reach their legendary splendour. The fact that the drone troops had managed to cultivate and nurture any sort of growth, no matter how small, was truly a remarkable feet. The drones stood quietly as Ratchet took his time and examined each cluster in detail, particularly a vivid multi- hued one that grew in a peculiar cubic structure.

“They are all beautiful,” he concluded, “Whoever is tending them should be very proud.”  
“Thank you sir,” The welted drone said humbly, “We all do our bit.”  
“And it shows. Do bots come and sit?” Ratchet asked, indicating to the benches.  
“Yeah, especially if they’re looking for a little peace and quiet.”  
“Hmmm, I’ll have to remember that,” the medic mused, moving to the door in a clear sign that he’d finished.

“So, where to now?” Ratchet asked his escorts when they were in the corridor.  
“Would you like some fresh air, sir?” the scratched trooper queried, “We could take you to the launch pad. It’s not too breezy out, a nice warm day to catch some solar rays.”  
“That sounds delightful.” Ratchet smiled.

They hadn’t been lying. It really was lovely coming out into the bright sunshine from the dark cool corridors of the Nemesis. It felt good to have the sun warm his plating again, flaring his white armour for maximum absorption of the solar rays. The movement also allowed the cool light sea breeze to flow under the heavy plating, gently brushing at the exposed protoform.

For a long time, Ratchet simply stood and gazed over the vast waterscape before him. There was nothing but clear sky and deep, dark water that shimmered in the light, a vast expanse of blue no matter where he looked. Only little cottonball- white clouds dotted the air here and there broke up the endless sky. His two drone escorts hung back, giving him a respectful amount of space to be alone with his thoughts. 

Though Megatron had only been gone a few hours, the medic already felt the painful tug at his spark, already missing his mate’s close presence. It would be days before his return, long days before he would be able to feel him again, bask in the presents of Megatrons strong, vibrant, EM field. He wanted to feel the larger bot’s arms wrap around him, his sharp servos roaming… Ratchet sighed forlornly; it really was going to be hard without him- such a short amount of time had past and he was already lonely. 

“Sir? Are you alright?” One drone asked.  
“Hmmm? Oh! Yes, yes I’m fine.” Ratchet replied distractedly, waving him off, “Don’t mind me…”  
“I don’t… wish to speak out of line, sir but, you seem a little… down?” the scratched trooper spoke up. Ratchet gave a little snort; he clearly wasn’t doing well at hiding his feelings at present.  
“Oh, it’s nothing important. Truth is I’m just… not looking forward to going back to my quarters.”  
“Why sir?” The other asked, seemingly baffled. “I thought Lord Megatron’s quarters were nice?”  
“Nice?! They’re positively swanky compered to ours!” The dented drone exclaimed, making the older mech chuckle at the surprising outburst.

“They are indeed… swanky… I’m just being silly really. It’s just that without Megatron there, I know that I’m going to be bored out of my mind in there. Before, I always had things and projects to attend to… to work on… things that needed fixing or making… I was always busy… always had something to do… but now….” Ratchet sighed shakily, looking back off over the sea scape. The clouds floated by slowly without a care in the world. The medic wished that he could be like them, not thinking about what he’d left unfinished… who he’d left behind…   
The two drones pick up his changing mood and instantly tried steering him away form his turmoil.

“I’m sure there’s something we could do to help sir!” one drone piped up quickly. “We could do something… fun, you know, together. Till lord Megatron gets back.” With that said, Ratchet’s thoughts quickly shifted back to his earlier conversation with his new mate, it successfully banished his melancholy thoughts from his processor in a spark beat. A deviously sly grin spread over his handsome face as he chuckled darkly to himself. Oh what fun he could get up to with a couple of eager to please troopers. So many different scenarios popped up in his processor, every one of them deviously naughty. Alas, he did make a promise…

“Sir?” The dented drone asked with puzzlement lacing his voice. “Umm… are you alright?”  
“Oh yes, but sadly I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help, I don’t want to get you into trouble…”  
“I’m sure there’s something we could do sir,” the welted trooper said with clear confidence, “We can’t have you bored stiff. Just name it.”   
Ratchet thought for a moment, something they could do that didn’t involve stasis cuffs and them all getting hot and sticky. He paused as a daft idea surfaced in his mind.

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance that you have a Kal’toe stash away somewhere on board. Then we might be onto something,” Ratchet said offhandedly. Kal’toe was a logic game, quite popular in its time and he had always enjoyed playing either by himself or against others. The medic hadn’t seen a set in millennia, they were most likely all destroyed. He didn’t think he ever would again, but thought he’d ask anyway. The two drones cast a look at each other before looking back at the doctor.

“Kal’toe? Yeah, we have one of those.” The chipped mech said in a matter-of-fact tone. Ratchet stalled in surprise, not expecting a positive answer.  
“You’re kidding?”  
“No really we have, it’s in the recreation hall, sir,” the scarred trooper assured him, “We also have a Pon’tack table, Dr’pla, a dig gamer with lots of games and even a Pre-cee squer.”

“Bob’s added human games as well,” The other drone added in, “Loads of human computer games for the Digi-gamer, A chess board, Cribbage and something called Ker’plunk, I believe.”   
Even though the old mech was immensely delighted by the news that he wouldn’t be reduced to twiddling his thumbs alone in his new quarters till his bondmate got back, he couldn’t help but frown.  
“Bob?” Ratchet asked, intrigued by the human name. Even with their faces coved, the two drones suddenly looked very sheepish.

“Ugh, the mech that runs the rec room, sir. His Designation is J-13-0-13…. Everyone calls him Bob.” The welted mech clarified. Ratchet merely nodded, still a little confused, when another thought suddenly occurred to him.  
“Well, while were on the subject, you two haven’t told me your names.”   
At this the drone troops appeared to be genuinely surprised.

“You mean our names?” the scratched one asked, pointing between him and his companion.  
“Unless there’s someone else here I’m not seeing,” Ratchet said dryly at the two startled mechs.  
“Well sir… my designation is T0-M21,” supplied the drone with the large welts on his shoulder.   
“T1-M13,” the other with the scratched paintwork chirped happily, “But you can call me Tim if you like sir, everyone else does, and he’s Tom by the way.”   
Even with his face masked, T0-M21 looked to be giving Tim a scathing glare for blabbing his alias.

“Do all the drone troopers have human designations?” Ratchet asked, intrigued by the new discovery.  
“Not everyone, sir.” Tom said with a shake of his helm. “When we came to Earth, we found that our serial codes can sometimes look like human names.”  
“Even though, you sometimes have to tilt your helm and squint to see it,” Tim added, tipping his own helm for emphasis.

“It started out as a bit of a joke but… it seems to have caught on,” Tom shrugged.  
“Big time,” his partner exclaimed with a little laugh, “It’s nice to finally have an actual name even if it is made from our serial number.”   
Ratchet smiled softly, nodding in understanding. He had never agreed with the practise of giving those of the lowest classes only numbers instead of true names. It had been degrading and unfair. The medic was really starting to grow fond of the two quite rapidly.

“Well then, Tim, Tom, how do you fancy a game of Kal’to?” Ratchet asked.  
“Sound like a plan to me sir.” Tim grinned.  
“I’ll just have to inform Soundwave,” Tom said, tapping the side of his helm, “He told us to notified him if we went anywhere with more then four bots.”  
“I swear! I’ve never been this coddled in all my life!” Ratchet laughed loudly, amused by the overprotectiveness of the spy as Tom sent a direct comm. message. They waited patiently for a few moments as Soundwave mulled over the request, but finally receive an all- clear.

The three turned around, engaging in small talk as they made their way back into the Nemesis. Ratchet asked about their particular duties on board and the troopers were more then happy to answer. Tom was an engineer and thus didn’t see much combat; he mostly looked after the various Decepticon vehicles and undertook ship maintenance. Tim was a scout, sent all over earth for various reasons and could be away for days at a time.

The drones, on their part, found it remarkably easy to open up and just ‘chat’ to the older mech. Both were surprised by his informality compared to the other officers. Breakdown being the only other exception. His apparent easy temperament, kind optics and warm smiles clashed horribly with the horror stories of the Dreaded Autobot ‘Hatchet’ that they had been told.

They were deep into a funny anecdote Tim was giving regarding a fellow Eradicon who managed to get his head stuck in a shuttle pod turbine, when the group rounded a corner and ran headlong into a hurrying miner drone. The purple bot collided into Tom with a loud CLANG and let out a yelp of surprise.

“Hey! Watch it!” Tom yelled out, take up a defensive stance in front of his charge. As the smaller Decepticon bounced off him, he staggered before steadying himself.  
“Oh! I’m sorry!” The Miner cried.  
“Look where you’re going mech!” Tim added, “You’ve got optics for a reason ya know.”  
“I’m really sorry, guys, I was ju-” The mech stalled as he finally caught sight of Ratchet behind the troopers. The worker mech’s double slitted visor glowed brightly in panic and he begun to shake so much his armour started to rattle.

“Are you alright?” Ratchet asked, genuinely concerned about the smaller mech’s sudden violent quaking, stepping forward. In response the miner screamed blue murder, ran face first into the wall opposite them, bounced off and bolted down the hall crying in a hysterical voice.   
“Primus help me! I’m sorry! It was an accident! Please don’t hurt me! I don’t wanna get melted again!”   
The three watched him go, listening while the miner cried out apologies as he ran.

“What… in the name of the AllSpark… was that all about?” Ratchet frowned, baffled.  
“Ah…well sir, that pathetic display was provided for you today by PHI-11,” Tom informed him with a sigh, gesturing grandly in the direction the mech had fled.  
“Let me guess… is his names Phill?” the medic asked.  
“Heh, good guess,” Tim chuckled.  
“You don’t recognize him, sir?” Tom questioned, tilting his head quizzically.  
“Should I?” The carrying bot asked in puzzlement.

“Well, you did kinda hit him on the head with a rock sir… then welded his mask to his face,” Tim sniggered as realisation finally dawned on the older mech.   
“Oh dear Primus… that was him.”   
Ratchet cringed a little at the memories, he truly looked appalled at himself, “I really didn’t mean to do that, I wasn’t myself that day. Is he alright?”  
“Oh yeah, he’s fine… he got the whole lunar cycle off, the lucky bugger,” Ratchet could have sworn he heared a pout in Tom’s voice.  
“It took Knock-out about 2 hours to get it off though,” Tim cackled merrily, “You should have seen the doc trying to prise the slagging mask off- he was swearing like a ground pounder!”  
“Oh dear… I really didn’t mean to go that far…” Ratchet cringed, feeling awful for the poor little miner.

“Sir, if I may ask… I heard a rumour,” The dented drone piped up tentatively, “The day you bashed Phill… you infiltrated an Energon mine as well didn’t you?”   
Ratchet nodded an affirmative.   
“You also beat up Breakdown?”  
“That’s not much of a rumour, but yes I guess that’s true,” the medic answered.  
“The one he really wants to ask, but is too much of a big a robot chicken to ask, is the one going around saying that you punched Megatron in the face on the same day,” Tom sighed. Tim shot him a heated glare.  
“I am not a chicken! But… Yeah, that one,” Tim nodded, looking hopeful. Ratchet chuckled to himself.

“It wasn’t that spectacular; it was only the one punch… But it did send him flying back into a wall…” Ratchet replied matter of factly, waving the whole incident off. The two troopers stared at him in something close to awe.  
“Wow… that is so totally… noble!” Tim squeaked happily and begun giggling. Ratchet could hear pure adoration in the mechs voice and it made him grin broadly.  
“Alright! Enough with the fan-mech attitude!” Tom snapped as he started shoving Tim playfully down the hall, “Let’s go- we got games to play!”

“Righty oh.” Tim cried, pointing down the hall. “To the Rec!”   
Ratchet shook his helm ruefully at his escorts antics and made up his mind, then and there. If Ratchet was to be spark-sat from now on (and he got the feeling that was the case) then it might as well be in the company of bots he liked. He was going to ask Soundwave if these two could be made his permanent escort- they made him laugh. 

It wasn’t long before they reached a large set of double doors. Scrawled, painted Cybertronian glyphs across the archway read ‘Bob’s Wreck and Ruin.’  
“Well it’s not much, sir… but we like it,” Tom said as they walked in, warm affection flooding his voice.  
“Bob! Look alive! We have a VIP guest!” Tim called. The servant class drone dropped what he was doing when he saw who exactly was with his brethren. He rushed round the bar and gave Ratchet a very low, respectable bow. 

“Welcome! Welcome! It is an honour sir! What brings you here of all places?” he asked, his voice deep, gravely and… bizarrely… he was sporting a large bowtie that appeared to be made out of blue tarpaulin.  
“Tim and Tom told me you have a Kal’toe, here. I was hoping we could sit and play for a while, if that alright with you Bob.”   
The servant drone was clearly stunned by the older mechs gracious smile and the use of his given designation. Normally the higher up never bothered to learn their individual codes let alone their nick-names. Even being civil to them seemed a bit of a stretch for some of the officers at times. It was rather refreshing.

“Well… indeed we do, sir! Just over here,” Bob said leading the way to one corner of the room where most of the recreational entertainment was kept, “Though, it hasn’t been out in a while if I’m honest, not many play it.”  
“Well it is kinda hard. Having to thinking 10 moves ahead and it’s fiddly. All those little bits,” Tim said, wiggling his three fingered servos.

Bob produced a cleaning rag from his subspace and quickly wiped down a table of non-existent dirt.   
“Would you like something to drink sir?” Bob asked as he pulled out a chair for Ratchet. The medic was quite flattered by all the attention he was receiving and inclined his head in thanks as he sat.  
“Nothing strong, I’m afraid, just some midgrade if you have it. I do have a little stowaway onboard.” Ratchet gave a little smile, patting his chest lightly. 

“Of course sir, right away. VINNIE!”   
Bob yelled so loud and harshly it made everyone jump, causing Ratchet to grip the table top in surprise, Tom to nearly topple off his chair and poor Tim to drop the game and scattering the pieces on the table.  
“Geez Bob! Gimmie a spark attack would ya!” Tom grumbled, servo over his chassis. Ratchet watched as another service bot popped up from behind an overturned table on the other side of the room where he had looked to have been making repairs.

“Wot?” he yelled indigently, “Wot I gotta do now?”   
“Don’t ‘wot’ me, s’rude! ‘Specially when we got a guest!” Bob scolded, “Run down to the refinery and get some mid grade!”  
“Wot… now?”  
“Yes now!”  
“Bu-”  
“NOW!”  
“Okay… Okay!” the slender drone sighed dramatically, getting up and taking off for the door.  
“And I want good stuff!” Bob yelled after him, making Vinnie screech to a halt and look back. 

“Okay!” Vinnie nodded vigorously.  
“You just tell them who it’s for and don’t you take any slag from ‘em,” Bob ordered, wagging his digit purposefully.  
“Right! Will do!” The mech called and ran out the doors.  
“And don’t be too long about it!” Bob yelled before they shut. Turning back to his guest he clasped his hands in an apologetic manner, “So sorry about that, he’s from Slaughter City, they drag them up rather then raise them and teach them manners, it won’t be long.”

“You really don’t need to go to that much trouble,” Ratchet said softly.  
“Honestly, it’s not a trouble at all, sir. We’re here to look after you and your stowaway,” Bob chuckled warmly, fiddling with his bowtie, “I’ll bring you over a cube as soon as it arrives. If there is anything else you need just yell.”   
With that he returned back behind the bar and continued to shine containers.

As Tom and Tim set up the Kal’toe, Ratchet gazed around the space. It was huge, well used and clearly loved. Behind the long bar, large vats of coloured high grade and Engex glowed invitingly. It was a shame he couldn’t sample them. There were many booths and tables dotted around the floor and Ratchet even spotted a raised platform area in front of a wall that was covered in what looked like road signs, at the other end of the room. He could only guess what it was used for. He’d have to ask his companions later.

The lights were set at a comfortable dimmed setting that was easy on the optics. There was even music playing softly in the back ground, loudly enough to be identified but not enough to interfere with conversation. Strangely, Ratchet recognised it as a human song he’d heard once before. All these elements gave the place a very relaxed and pleasant atmosphere. It reminded him of energon bars he used to frequent when he was a medical student all those millennia ago.

But Ratchet guessed that this place could really buzz when the mood was right. There were only a few drones present at the moment, keeping to the secluded booths, but he could see them trying to covertly watch and sneak glances at him. Ratchet didn’t mind though, he hadn’t felt this popular in quite some time. It felt nice to be the centre of attention for once. Ratchet liked it in here… it felt oddly… comforting. He gave a sigh of contentment; he hadn’t felt this relaxed and at ease in such a long time. It was strange to think that it would be here on Nemissis where he would finely feel… at peace again… and not with-

“Do you want to go first sir?” Tom asked, breaking Ratchet’s train of thought. The medic looked back to see the assembled game, but assembled really wasn’t the correct term. The floating structure in the centre was a mess of small sticks that resembled wire wool. A predatory smile crossed the old mech’s face as giddy joy filled his spark. Fond memories surfaced as he recalled all his old strategies and tactics. How he loved the challenge of pitting his logic against an opponent.  
He was really going to enjoy thrashing the Pit out of these two.


End file.
